


Bright

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stardust (2007)
Genre: AOS Big Bang, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Big Bang Challenge, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Ghosts, High Fantasy, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Monkeys, POV Multiple, Pirates, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sky Pirates, Stardust AU, Steampunk, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To win admission to a prestigious school, Jemma ventures into a magical kingdom to retrieve a fallen star. Much to her surprise, the star she finds is not a chunk of rock but a boy named Fitz, who is in great danger. She vows to protect him as they venture back to her hometown, and along the way - as they encounter pirates, witches, and ambitious royals - she realizes that maybe the plan she'd set out to follow isn't quite the right one for her after all. </p><p>A <i>Stardust</i> AU.</p><p>
  <span class="small">
    <i>*Edits completed 10/05.*</i>
  </span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonbeam

**Author's Note:**

> [Eclecticmuses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse) was my wonderful partner for this Big Bang, and her _stunning_ poster art for this fic can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4764050)!
> 
> Please note that this is based on the _movie only_ , and not Neil Gaiman's book, which I have yet to read. There is some amount of dialogue taken directly from the movie, and for that, of course, I take no credit. The story itself is not mine - all I own is the mashing up of the two universes. (And "own" is a relative term, at that.) Watching the movie first is **not** necessary to understand this fic or universe, but I'd recommend watching it at some point because it's lovely!
> 
> Also, although there is *technical* death at the end of the story, I've made some adjustments - and ghosts exist throughout. Any angst in this story is brief.
> 
> Many apologies for the multiple POVs - I've tried to make it as clear as possible, although this story will probably elucidate why I usually prefer to stick to one POV for the duration of a fic. Oh, and yes, Fitz's hair is slightly more blond than canon in this 'verse.
> 
> A _huge_ thanks to MK for betaing as usual, and for reading it even if it was ~20k longer than I'd intended!
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood! :-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You sprinkle **stardust** on my pillowcase,_   
>  _It’s like a moonbeam brushed across my face._   
>  _ Nights are good, and that’s the way it should be. _

Some stories begin with tales of magic, or of glass slippers, or of two people drawn inexorably together by fate. This story begins with none of those things, and, in fact, relies rather heavily on a lot of good things happening accidentally all at once. Most of all, the story has its deepest roots in a letter that was sent to the Royal Academy of Science in London, England, over one-hundred fifty years ago. The letter contained a very strange inquiry and was passed around to most of the resident scientists for a good laugh. Until, at last, one scientist took pity on the country boy who had sent it and tried to explain as politely as possible that his query was nonsense. 

In his letter, the boy introduced himself as Steve Rogers, and what tugged on the scientist’s heartstrings was the boy’s revelation that he was chronically ill and therefore had to be homeschooled. His illnesses were the reason his parents had moved them to a whole new continent and taken residence in the countryside, hopeful that living someplace peaceful might help him heal from his veritable cornucopia of maladies. After moving to the town called Wall – so named, he claimed, for the wall that ran alongside it – his health _did_ improve, and some in the town whispered that the wall itself was to credit. Others whispered that he must have gone over the wall himself, seeking out a cure, and the boy asked the scientists of the Royal Academy if such a thing were possible – a world parallel to our own that contained all kinds of miracles.

The scientist, like any good man of reading without clear evidence to the contrary, told young Steve that this was surely poppycock, and that country-dwelling folk had too much time on their hands. But Steve did not believe him and saved the letter, with the expectation that one day he’d prove this scientist wrong. 

A few years and nighttime explorations later, eighteen-year-old Steve found himself at the opening in the wall, which had been guarded by the same old man for far longer than the memories of any of the younger townsfolk.

“I’m charged with guarding the portal to another world,” groused the old man, leaning forward on his walking stick and staring piercingly into Steve’s eyes, “and you’re asking me to just let you through?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged his slim shoulders and made a pointed gesture behind his obstructer. “‘Cause, I dunno if you’ve noticed, but it’s an empty field.” Unimpressed, the old man settled his feet more firmly in place. “C’mon,” Steve tried again, “do you see another world out there? No. You see a field. Do you see anything nonhuman? No. And y’know why? Because it’s a field!” 

The old man made a tired, dismissive noise. “Hundreds of years, this wall’s been here, under twenty-four-hour guard –” 

“Yeah, I know, but –”

“And this is the third time this week that you’ve tried to sweet-talk your way through!”

“I just –”

“One more word and I’ll report you to the village council!”

Steve opened his mouth but stopped, mouth twisting in defeat as he scratched one hand through his neatly-trimmed blond hair. “Right. I guess – I’d be better off just heading home.”

“Good idea.”

“G’night, Mr. Selvig.”

As Steve turned away, the old man lowered himself back onto his stool, waving vaguely after the youngster. “Goodnight, Steve. Give my best to your mother –” 

Before the old man could turn his head, Steve had taken a running leap at the gap in the wall and began sprinting through the definitely, completely normal field as fast as he could go. With a brief shout, and almost tumbling off his stool, the old man waved his walking stick ineffectually after the escapee. Since he could not abandon his guard, however, he was forced to let the young rapscallion get away.

Once he was out of sight of the wall itself, Steve slowed down, needing a moment to rest and make sure that his asthma wouldn’t flare up. It – like most of his other afflictions – had been vastly improved since leaving Brooklyn’s crowded streets, but sometimes it could be tricky. He ambled through the grove of trees into which a foot-made path led, taking note of the area’s familiar flora and shaking his head at the foolishness of the old man. The path eventually led him to the tall gate of a city, whose walls were guarded by strange stone creatures the likes of which he’d never seen before. Upon entering the city itself, Steve swallowed, and thought that perhaps the old man had been telling the truth about the otherworldly nature of this land after all. 

A night market was in full swing within the city’s center, all kinds of strange merchants and patrons bustling about. In one stall, a flame hovered just above the counter without a source or protection; this, a man purchased with a few shining coins, and then snatched up with his bare hand. In another, a carnivorous plant munched greedily on the back half of a pure, white rat, blood dripping down its petal lips. Perched a top a barrel, a large glass jar filled with eyeballs caught Steve’s gaze, and when he approached they all turned to him in unison, studying him as one. He jumped backwards in alarm, stumbling into a doddering old woman, who then dropped an apparently very hot drink onto a tall, well-dressed man. 

“Dumb bitch!” The man growled this right into her face, swiping bitterly at his stained clothes, and Steve felt a large clench of anger in his stomach.

“Hey, you better apologize to her! That wasn’t her fault,” Steve called out, striding up to the dandy with as much swagger as his rather thin frame could manage. 

“Are you talking to _me_?” The man stared around, pretending like he couldn’t see his challenger, and then snickered as he returned his top hat to his head.

“Yeah, buddy,” Steve snarled, rolling up his sleeves, “you bet I’m talking to you.” 

“Enough!” The woman whose stall in front of which they were arguing appeared as if from nowhere, arms crossed and dark eyes flashing. “I won’t have time-wasters chasing off my customers.”

Giving his opponent one last, dismissive huff, the other man disappeared, and Steve turned back to the woman. “I’m real sorry if I caused you any trouble, ma’am.”

She was a couple inches taller than he, with smooth, dark skin and carefully controlled curls, and the smile she gave him in return was thin. When a small bushel of flowers appeared out of thin air in her hand, he realized with a start that she was a witch. “Will you be purchasing any of my wares?”

The stall itself was ramshackle, counter made up of discarded boards and rusted nails, bushels of flowers hiding the rotting wood. Clearly the flower witch was a nomad, because behind the counter was a bright yellow caravan, and in front of the caravan stood the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen. Her dress was a deep, royal blue, and it shone enchantingly against her pale skin. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, and the witch’s smile became far less sinister and more accommodating.

“Girl,” she called behind her, and the woman behind the stall strode dutifully forward. “Take care of this customer. I have... business to which I must attend.” With a small pop, the flowers in her hand disappeared in a small burst of fire, and she turned to sashay down the crowded market street.

The servant woman, wavy brown hair glinting in the lantern light, leaned forward against one of the stall’s posts with a coy smile dancing around her red-painted lips. “I saw you stand up to Humphrey. That was very brave of you. Not many people would.” 

Steve frowned briefly, before dropping his mouth open. “Oh, you mean –” He aped jauntily putting the top hat on his head, and she nodded, laughing. “Yeah, well, I don’t like bullies.” 

“An admirable quality,” she replied, eyes flicking approvingly down the length of his body. “My name’s Peggy.”

“I’m Steve.” Holding his hand out automatically, he cringed a little at the formality, but she just grinned again and gave his hand a good, firm shake.

“So, my mistress said you wished to buy something. See anything you like?”

“Definitely,” he breathed, flushing pink as he realized that the only thing in his head at that moment was most certainly not for sale. So he swallowed, studying the rows and rows of flowers and trailing his fingers through the petals. “Um, how much’re those blue ones?”

Coming around the edge of the stall, Peggy studied the flowers at which he pointed. “Oh, you don’t want the bluebells. Too ordinary.” Pushing aside a collection of bright daisies, she picked out a small flower whose white petals drooped alongside its own stem, as if its beauty was too much to hold upright. “Buy this one instead.”

Bemused, Steve plucked it gently from her hand; they grew throughout the wood thickets by his village, and so her insinuation that it was _not_ ordinary was somewhat odd. “A [snowdrop](http://www.copyright-free-photos.org.uk/flowers/snow-drop.jpg).”

“It’ll bring you luck,” she said, deep brown eyes shining as she leaned against the stall. 

“Alright,” he chuckled, hunting in his pockets for money. “What’s it cost?”

“A kiss.”

He swallowed, eyes darting down to her lips. “Ah. Alright.” 

Peggy grinned and grabbed his hand. “Come on,” she said, tugging him after her around the side of the stall towards the miniscule caravan. As they walked, though, Steve tripped over a thin silver chain, and when he leant over to pick it up he was confused to see that one end was tied to the woman’s ankle.

Pausing, she saw him holding the chain and gave him a sad smile. “I’m a princess,” she intoned half-teasingly, “tricked into being a witch’s slave.” She flounced onto the steps of the caravan, the joke not quite reaching her eyes. “Will you liberate me?”

Steve couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, but giving her a minute grin, he picked up the chain and pretended to inspect it. Flipping out the pocketknife he always carried, he bent the chain over and sliced easily through the soft silver. Even though that seemed too simple, Steve held up the piece of chain that he’d removed to show Peggy. Sure enough, however, seconds later the two remaining pieces of chain snaked together again, not even leaving a mark to show for the damage he’d so briefly inflicted upon it.

“It’s an enchanted chain.” Peggy leaned forward on her knees, watching as he pocketed both his knife and the snippet of chain. “I’ll only be free when she dies.”

A terrible sense of anger and hopelessness overcame him; bullies he could deal with, but magic was something else entirely. “I’m sorry.”

Darkness passed across her face, as if her future itself was trapped within the chain, but the impression disappeared just as quickly. A smile returned to her lips, and she held her hand out to him. “Now, you still owe me a kiss.” 

For her part, Peggy wasn’t quite sure what drew her so strongly to Steve; she wasn’t normally one for picking up country boys at market. But his sweet bravery had drawn her inexorably to him, and as they lay together very late that night, his hands eager and lips willing, she couldn’t begin to regret her decision. Sending him on his way afterwards was harder, the hurt in his blue eyes palpable as she shooed him out of the caravan before her mistress could return and curse him, too. He promised that one day he’d find her, she swore that he’d never be able to, and their parting caused both of them great misery. Steve clung to the silver chain as he clambered back over the wall that night, promising himself that one day he’d make enough money that he could take the chain to the Royal Academy of Sciences and prove to them that he was right – and somehow use it to find her.

Nine months after departing the magical kingdom of Shieldhold, Steve received an unexpected souvenir of the best night of his life. The old man from the wall had sent someone to Steve’s home with a message in a basket – and that message lay atop a sleeping baby. The little girl blinked her golden-brown eyes open and gurgled, reaching up eagerly to grab Steve’s finger when he held it out to her. He inhaled, watching her toothless baby-grin, and felt a sharp pang that he wouldn’t get to raise this child alongside her mother, the woman with whom he’d spent one amazing night all those months ago.

In fact, there were two messages in the basket – the first of which explained to Steve that Peggy’s mistress had forbade her to keep the baby. The second one was cylindrical, covered in rough, brown paper, and addressed only _To Jemma_.

“Jemma,” Steve murmured, already thinking about whether or not he could pick up a second job to support them when he graduated in two weeks. “I’m gonna take real good care of you, little girl. My best girl.” The baby burbled happily in her basket, and Steve couldn’t stop the wide smile that spread across his face if he tried.

Life was hard for the little Rogers family sometimes, as Steve’s health was never as reliable as he’d like and money was often tighter than not, but thrive they did nonetheless. Twenty years passed, and the baby Jemma grew up knowing nothing of her unconventional heritage – but never mind how the infant became a girl. This is the story of how Jemma left home, got lost, became a hero, and managed to find everything she didn’t know she’d always wanted.

In the years after Jemma’s arrival in the town of Wall, a sister school to the prestigious Royal Academy for Sciences opened its doors nearby, with the goal of attracting all the most intelligent young minds in England. All the most intelligent _male_ minds, that is. Jemma, being well aware of her superior intellect when compared to most of the town’s inhabitants, did not find this at all acceptable. Neither did her father, for that matter, but Steve took a rather longer view of the Royal Academy for Sciences as an institution than she. 

Late one night, Jemma tossed pebbles at an Academy dormitory window, hoping that she would wake up her friend and not his roommate. Unfortunately for her, however, the Academy’s deputy headmistress rounded the building’s corner at just that moment, and Jemma leaped back in surprise. “Ms. Weaver!” 

“Jemma,” the older woman said with a low exhale, crossing her arms. “The groundskeeper said we had another intruder – you should be grateful I came looking instead of the dogs.”

“I – I was – you seem to have a, um, rat problem...?” She winced, berating herself for not preparing a cover story in advance.

Ms. Weaver raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. “You know I’ve been very fond of you, especially when you assist the town’s council –”

“Yes,” Jemma said, grabbing onto the topic change with alacrity, “you see, I’ve been wondering if you received my newest application to the Academy, which I gave to the town council last week to have delivered –”

“Jemma.” Glancing around, Ms. Weaver took a few steps closer. “Even if the Academy didn’t only accept boys, you know you can’t afford it.”

“But my funding proposal is –” 

“The answer’s always going to be no,” Ms. Weaver cut her off bluntly. “The headmaster will never allow it.” She let out a sympathetic sigh; truth be told, she saw a lot of herself in the younger girl, and if she hadn’t been raised near one of the first ever scientific institutions to admit girls, Ms. Weaver would likely be in an even worse position than Jemma. “You’re very bright. If you could move to London, where certain, progressive programs are beginning to admit one or two girls a year....”

Jemma’s face fell, and she spoke her next words quietly, almost to herself. “I can’t leave Wall. My father needs me.”

“I’m very sorry, Jemma.” Ms. Weaver gave her a sympathetic half-smile before returning to the entryway.

Pursing her lips, Jemma turned on her heel and strode back the way she came, to go clambering through the bushes back to her house. The time would come that she’d prove her worth to be far above that of half the students here combined; of this, Jemma had no doubt. 

The next night at the same time, Jemma traipsed up the hill alongside the outer borders of the Academy, the wall itself visible just beyond the low apex. Waving a scribbled note in front of her as she approached the picnic blanket, she shook her head and grinned at the friend who awaited her arrival. This friend was named Trip – Antoine Triplett, to be accurate, but since he’d stumbled clumsily over her feet twice the first day that they met, she only ever called him by his nickname. A smart young man, dark-skinned and tall, he had been the only one at the Academy’s open house last year to give her the time of day, despite her very clearly being the wrong gender to be accepted to the school. Amused by her determination to be accepted, he’d agreed not long after to give her short versions of his own lessons – and, most importantly, he illicitly lent her books from which she could study on her own. 

“You couldn’t have had someone send over this note last night?” She dropped her heavy knapsack on the blanket first, sitting primly next to it and reaching right for the bottle of wine he’d clearly nicked from the school’s cellars.

Trip cringed, handing over a thick-stemmed, wooden goblet. “I’m sorry! The new astronomy teacher’s really into nighttime sessions, and I totally forgot about it until Billy grabbed me.”

Spying the first of the new books, Jemma abandoned the wine to pick up and skim the back cover. “Our night skies,” she read, making a small hum of interest. “Oh, that could be quite interesting.” 

“Billy said he couldn’t find you when he delivered that,” Trip added, studying the way she carefully avoided meeting his gaze. “Had to leave it with Mr. Dunstan.” 

“Oh, well, he gave it to me, so it wasn’t a problem. Is that camembert?” 

“Jemma....” 

She sighed, face crumbling in the candlelight. “I got fired again.”

“C’mon girl,” he groaned, “what happened this time?”

Taking a sip of the wine Trip had poured, Jemma muttered into her glass. “I may have been experimenting with new ways to preserve the pork during my break.”

“At least it was the pork and not the beef this time,” he deadpanned, handing her over a large hunk of fresh bread. 

“It may have been both.”

“Jemma!”

The bread was still barely warm in her hands, and she ripped off a small piece to nibble on, watching the way crumbs sprinkled over the dark cover of her book like a constellation. “It’s not my fault they don’t appreciate that a few sacrifices need to be made in order for scientific advancement.”

“Yeah, they’re probably more worried about their stock being destroyed,” he replied wryly, and she twisted her mouth, knowing he was right. “What’re you gonna do now?”

“I’ll just find another job.” Reaching for the cheese and his class notebook, she shrugged. “I’m not _meant_ to work in a shop anyway, you know. There are bigger things waiting for me out there.” Ignoring Trip’s fond laughter, Jemma flipped through the notebook to find his most recent lessons. Jemma’s father had been telling her that she was meant for more than this her entire life, and even if she had to scrape and claw her way to her future, she’d find it one day. 

Coincidentally – or, perhaps not so much, as most things involving the wall were often connected in some way or form – only a few leagues and one magical barrier away, the King of all Shieldhold lay on his deathbed. And as Jemma thought about her future, not so very far away the King’s final act would change the course of it forever.

King Nicholas Fury had married many times and outlasted every one of his wives, but, much to his great regret, he would not outlast most of his children. Most, that is, because of his eight children four were already dead at the hands of their surviving siblings, and one was long since missing.

Gazing out at his three remaining sons – John, Grant, and Jasper – the King sighed. “Now that you’re all here, we must discuss the matter of succession. Of my eight children, there are three of you today still standing – quite a break with tradition.” 

John, the eldest of the three, barrel-chested and more smug than a hog in its mud pile, smirked at his father’s clear annoyance. “We know, Father. You had twelve brothers, and you killed them all for the throne before the King even felt poorly.”

“You’re strong and courageous,” Grant added by rote, eyeing the open, floor-to-ceiling window just to the right of the King’s bed.

“And cunning,” the King finished, smiling at Grant. “Most importantly, cunning. John –”

“Yes, father?” 

“Look through the window,” the King said, “and tell me what you see.”

Throwing a shit-eating grin back at his two younger brothers, John strode to the edge of the window. “I see the kingdom, Father. The whole of Shieldhold.”

“And?” While John’s back was turned, the King raised an eyebrow at his youngest son, Grant. Jasper, meanwhile, was overly occupied with staring somewhere at the ceiling, a rather bored expression on his bespectacled face.

“My kingdom?” John turned back to his father with an overly hopeful look, and the King shrugged (as best he could on his bed).

“Maybe,” the King answered. “Look up.” 

As John craned his head to better see the night sky, Grant took a few, quick steps forward and shoved his eldest brother out the window, from which he fell to a rather grisly death many, many stories down. The King’s laughter at his oldest son’s demise finally roused Jasper to pay attention to the proceedings, and Grant turned back with a grim smile to receive his father’s commendation.

Unbeknownst to the surviving Shieldhold royalty, John reappeared in the King’s bedroom only a few short seconds after his death in the form of a ghost. After taking stock of his body, half of which was somewhat squashed from his landing, he looked up and started at the sight of his four siblings. “Brock, Sunil, Pietro – Victoria! You’re alive...?” The four other ghosts shook their heads, and John sighed. 

“We’re stuck like this ‘til the new king is crowned,” Pietro chirped from his perch on the top of the King’s four-post bed.

“I was _that_ close,” John sighed, running his ghostly fingers through what was left of his hair.

Sitting in a nearby winged armchair, Victoria made an annoyed tsk and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him over the tips of her incredibly fashionable boots. “Well, at least you haven’t lost your looks.” 

“Oh, please,” John snapped. “You’re not seriously annoyed about that whole murder thing, are you? I mean, that _was_ ten years ago –” 

“Yeah, great deal of good it did you, didn’t it, killing me? Because, now, of course, you’re king of all Shieldhold! – Oh,” Victoria finished drily, “sorry, you’re _not_.”

As the ghosts continued to squabble unheard by the living, the King returned to the matter at hand. “As you know,” he began, “Shieldhold tradition dictates that the sole surviving heir of the king would inherit the throne.” A small coughing fit halted his speech, and when he was finished he seemed more distant than he had moments before. “Where is your sister?”

Glancing at Jasper for confirmation, Grant cleared his throat. “Sorry, Father. No one has seen Margaret for years now.”

“Pity,” the King muttered, scratching briefly at the corner of his jeweled eyepatch. “Well, with the two of you still living, we shall resolve the situation of succession in a non-traditional manner.” 

Pulling a large gold necklace away from the collection at his neck, the King dangled a stunning ruby before his two sons, who watched his every move with rapt attention. A thin strand of golden magic appeared around the ruby, causing its color to drain until the stone itself appeared as clear as glass. “Only he of royal blood can restore the ruby,” the King finished, voice beginning to fade, “and the one that does so shall be the new king of Shieldhold.”

With that, the gem and necklace flew out of the King’s grasp and into the sky, far out of the brothers’ reach. When they turned back to their father, he had drawn his last breath, meaning that time truly was beginning to close in upon them. Grant and Jasper gave each other one, cautious look, and then both bolted down the stairs of the castle’s tallest tower, jostling for first position the entire way and each one hell-bent on finding that gem before the other.

The gem, for its part, was of a rather discerning mind, and when it went soaring up into the heavens it managed to loop its chain around one particular star, dragging the both of them rather spectacularly back to earth.

Meanwhile, in the field by the wall on the English side, Jemma had accidentally faded out of her conversation with Trip as the book on astronomy drew her attention again. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, interrupting him for the third time, “I used to talk to the stars.”

Amused by the choice of tangent, Trip gave his head a small, bemused shake. “Yeah?”

“I never....” She cut her eyes to him, and then up to the sky. “I’ve never found it particularly easy to make friends. I’m not one of the popular crowd, you know, and so sometimes I’d come out to these fields – or, well, the ones over that way, closer to home – and I’d talk to the stars. Papa used to tease me that one day they’d answer back,” she laughed, her mood growing quickly more somber at the thought of her father. He was getting by, but she worried constantly that one day his illnesses would consume him. “I have to fix him,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you will – you’re a great daughter,” Trip said with an encouraging smile. “And a good person to have in your corner. Did you – ah...” he trailed off, studying her face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Something about making a trip to Ipswich,” she replied absently, flipping through a few of the astronomy book’s pages. “Meeting a jeweler....” Jemma paused and glanced up at her friend, who raised his eyebrows. “You’re thinking of proposing to someone?”

Dropping his head and giving a low chuckle, Trip scooted forward before trying again. “Jemma, I go to an all boys school, and you’re the only person I have time to meet outside of school hours.”

“Oh.” She blinked a couple times, her heartbeat speeding up in what should have been excitement but simply wasn’t. “Well, that would make an enormous amount of sense, Trip, you’re far too intelligent for any of the other girls in Wall. And very good looking.”

Trip, who was just as smart as she gave him credit for, still couldn’t tell if she was simply being Jemma, or if there was something else brewing underneath her rather measured response. “Is – that you saying yes? Or just complimenting my life choices?”

She gave him a genuine grin at that, and reached for another piece of cheese, trying to ignore the sliver of guilt that she was just delaying giving him a real answer. “You have to actually propose before I can say yes.” 

A wide smile broke across his face, and he stared wordlessly back at her for a few moments before shaking his head clear. “Yeah, alright. Okay. I’ll be back in a week, and –”

“Mr. Triplett, what a disappointment.” The deep voice sounded from behind Jemma and they both jumped, turning to see a rather regal-looking man with silver hair striding across the grass with the help of a cane.

“Headmaster Gonzalez,” Trip said, scrambling to his feet.

Following him up, Jemma realized that she was about to meet the man who had been steadfastly ignoring her applications for over a year. “Headmaster,” she said, drawing his attention to her, “my name is Jemma Rogers, and I don’t know if –”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, giving her a critical glance. “I suppose it makes sense that you’re luring our students out here after curfew, too –”

“It was my idea, sir –”

“I wasn’t luring anyone!” Jemma couldn’t help her indignation, and reached for the first book she could find. “I’ve been teaching myself so that maybe when I’m admitted to the Academy I’ll be prepared –”

“Miss Rogers.” Leaning on his cane, Headmaster Gonzalez grabbed the book she’d unintentionally waved a little too close to his face. “Your tenacity is admirable, but I’m afraid that there’s never going to be a place for you here –”

“But I’m smarter than half the students already in attendance –” 

“And unfortunately, you’re also a woman.” Even the silent stars above them flinched at his coldness then, and Gonzalez sighed. “You also have a sick father to support and a very limited income. You think that I don’t pay attention to your applications? I know all about your situation, and there’s simply no way –”

“But I need to go to this school!” Her voice was much louder than she’d intended, but it had the desired effect of quieting the headmaster. “I’m intelligent, and dedicated, and I would do anything in the world to be educated here!” 

He laughed drily, dropping his head back to look up at the sky with an exasperated sigh. At that moment, the star pulled away from home by the Shieldhold royal gem soared overhead, zipping alongside the wall to go crashing down again in the magical kingdom. Glancing down at the book he’d taken from Jemma, Gonzalez waved it in the direction of the shooting star.

“Anything, huh? Alright – go fetch me that fallen star, and then I will reconsider your application. The deadline for next term is in one week.” He shook his head, tossing the book at her feet. “I want all of this cleaned up in ten minutes, Mr. Triplett, and you’ll come to my office tomorrow morning for disciplinary measures.” 

“I’ll get you that star.” Jemma stood as tall as she possibly could and glared at the headmaster, who turned back to her with an incredulous look upon his mustached face. “I know you don’t think I can, but I will – and, Trip, I’ll even come back with it before you return from Ipswich.” Taking one more step towards Gonzalez, she inhaled, long, thick skirt swishing around her ankles. “You don’t believe I can do anything because I’m just a girl from a poor family, but I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll bring you back that star, and then you’ll see that I _belong_ at this school.” With that, Jemma turned on her heel and ran out of the field, heading straight for the gap in the wall.

At the same time many leagues away, a rather decrepit old witch was awoken from her slumber by the last light of the shooting star, and her dark, gnarled heart beat faster at the realization of what had just happened. 

“Dottie,” she called, “Barry! A new star has fallen!” As her siblings stumbled ungracefully out of bed, Jiaying hobbled to the window and watched the star’s last flare disappear over the horizon.

For the three dark witches, the arrival of a star on earth meant only three things: Youth, beauty, and survival. In fact, they had one more miniscule piece of star left in their pantry. Although all three of them maintained their magic for as long as they lived, none of them currently had the strength to use it. Living, you see, takes quite a large amount of energy, and they had exhausted their morsels of the last star with frivolities, including the creation of the once-exquisite and now-rotting mansion that they still inhabited.

Now that they were all awake and atwitter with excitement, the three squabbled over who would receive the last piece of the old star and chase after the new one, but Jiaying managed to win the privilege. (By opening her eyes when they picked straws, that is.) 

Picking up the remaining piece of the star’s heart, glowing brightly even then, Jiaying smiled widely and then swallowed it down in one gulp. The magic began to take effect instantaneously, all of her cells rearranging themselves, and she laughed, feeling her skin tighten and hair return to its youthful, lustrous black. Patting down her torso and freshly-slim hips, she reveled in the new body of her younger self. It had been so very long since she had been beautiful, and killing the star would keep her this way forever. At least, until this one’s heart ran out, too.

Back by the wall in England, Jemma paused at the tree line and studied the man guarding the gap. Rumor had it that he’d been guarding the wall for longer than even the village council could remember, but obviously that had to be false. Taking a deep breath, she put on her most charming smile and strode up to the old man, who saw her approach and immediately started shaking his head. 

“Not again, Rogers –”

Jemma gave him a bemused look and slowed to a halt. “How do you know my last name? I’ve never met you before.”

The old man squinted, and then put on a pair of rusty spectacles. “Oh. You do look a bit like your father. Small, skinny - longer hair, though.” Putting his glasses away, he shook his head and stood, leaning heavily on his cane. “I suppose you intend to cross the wall as well, since you’re here just the same. You can just forget it – go home.” 

Opening her mouth to protest, she paused again. “Cross the wall ‘as well’ as who?”

Apparently, guarding the same three-meter patch of ground for multiple generations had its downsides, and memory gaps was one of them. The old man grumbled and resettled his cane against the ground. “No one. Nobody crosses the wall – you know that! Everybody knows that.”

“Right.” Still studying the old man, Jemma sighed, and then glanced meaningfully over his shoulder. “Yes, I know. I understand. I suppose I should just go home.”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight. Give my best to your father.”

Jemma took a few steps away from the gap, waiting until the old man had lowered himself back on his stool before turning and running back at the wall as fast as she could go. But the old man had learned a thing or two since Steve had tried the same trick twenty years ago, and he held his cane out at the exact height of Jemma’s shins, knocking her over onto the grass before she could get anywhere near the hidden kingdom.

He took his time standing up and leaning over Jemma, who was lying rather dazedly in the field and trying to figure out how she’d just been beaten by a man who _had_ to be at least a century old. 

“Off you go.” 

The walk back to the village was somewhat painful, but Jemma managed, fuming at a low level about her quest being halted so quickly. When she stormed into the house, she sped right to her father, who was sitting in a chair by the fireplace and reading the day’s paper.

“Papa, why does the guard at the wall know you?”

Steve blinked, setting his glasses down on the side table and scratching a hand through his blond hair, now tinged with wisps of grey along the side. “Why were you talking to the guard?” 

“Don’t change the subject.”

After studying the determined look on his daughter’s face, he sighed and stood. “I guess now’s as good a time to tell you as any.”

“Tell me what?”

“Where you came from.” And so Steve led Jemma into their attic, explaining as they went about the night that he managed to sneak into the magical kingdom on the other side of the wall.

In a wooden box, whose lid was decorated with a small, hand-hewn flower, lay the three most important mementos that Steve had kept from that night: The small piece of magical chain, for which he had never found a use. The bent white flower, whose luster hadn’t dimmed despite the many years, lack of water, and absence of sunlight. And, finally, the cylindrical object wrapped with a letter and addressed only _To Jemma_.

When she picked up the last item, Jemma gave her father a wide-eyed look. “I have a mother. I mean, she could still be alive.”

He smiled at his daughter, hands crossed loosely over his rather knobby knees. “Oh, I hope so. I’d like to think so, anyway.”

Inside the note addressed to her, Jemma found a long, black candle, which she pocketed – along with the other items – before reading the words out loud. 

“ _My darling Jemma –_

_Please know that I only ever wanted the best for you. Had my mistress allowed it, I would have kept you in a heartbeat. My dearest wish is that we will meet someday. The fastest way to travel is by candlelight – to use it, think of me and only me. I will think of you every day, for always._

_– Your Mother_ ”

The writing was smudged, and hard to read at times, for although Peggy had neat handwriting usually, composing this letter was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. Holding onto Jemma’s tiny fist as she’d tried to write with her other hand, the night Peggy sent her daughter to live with Steve she’d spent a long time by the light of a beeswax candle trying to parse out just the right words. She had no idea how to send away this gift she’d only just been given, this small creature who had brought light into a dark life of captivity and endless drudgery. The letter became crumpled even further as she’d bent over her daughter’s basket, brushing the miniature nose with her own as tears dripped off her lashes, whispering “goodbye, my darling” over and over again and hoping that it wouldn’t be for the last time.

Although Jemma knew none of this, she traced each of the letter’s creases and wondered how they came to be, noticing what seemed to be a dried water droplet and thinking that, maybe, her mother had been just as sad to leave her daughter as Jemma had been to grow up without her. After a moment, she scooted over and wrapped her arms around her father’s always too-thin waist. 

“Thank you, Papa." 

Rubbing his daughter’s back as he’d done to calm her down ever since she was little, Steve closed his eyes and exhaled. “Love you, kiddo.” When she leaned back and wiped her eyes, he watched her fold up the note and slide it into her pocket. “You’re not going after her?”

Jemma glanced down at the wooden box that sat before them on the floor. “Not... not yet. I have to find another job – and figure out how to make something that looks like a fallen star.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Nudging his shoulder with hers, she smiled. “Besides, I can’t leave. Who’d take care of you? You’re absolutely hopeless on your own.”

Despite his daughter’s teasing tone, Steve didn’t take her statement as a joke. “Jemma,” he started, face more serious than she could remember. “You shouldn’t put your life on hold because you’d feel guilty about leaving me –”

“Papa!” Her voice was sharp and indignant, and she released her affectionate hold on him. But he ignored her upset and continued, having suspected for some time that this was a conversation they should have.

“You’re meant for more than this, you know,” he said gesturing out the attic’s grimy window to the small, twinkling town below. “And I love that you’ve been trying to learn enough on your own to help me, really.” He held up a finger to halt her excuses; he’d known about her secret nighttime trips to the Academy for some time. “But I don’t think you’re gonna find what you need if you’re stuck here.” Reaching out for her hands, he tugged until she met his gaze. “Look, I know you lost your job –”

“How –”

“I’m omniscient. And your uncle told me when he stopped by after dinner. The point is, you’ve got nothing holding you here now, and I don’t count. I’ll always be here when you get back.” Steve reached smoothly into her pocket and pulled out the candle, then poked around in a nearby box until he found a dusty box of matches. “Go find your mother, see where that adventure takes you. And if it brings you back here, well....” He paused, giving her a crooked smile. “I’ll be happy to give you a discount on the rent for your room.”

Jemma choked out a laugh, trying not to think about the question she was afraid to ask: _What if you get worse? What if you’re not here when I get back?_ Her brain automatically filtered in the memory of one sunny afternoon when she was nine, when her father had passed out without warning and spent three weeks bedridden in their house. They’d had to rely on charity from their neighbors for a month while he looked for new work, having lost his previous employment during his illness. What Jemma remembered most vividly from that time was sitting by his bedside and vowing that, one day, she was going to learn enough to fix him.

“I can see you worrying about me, y’know.” Her father’s voice was teasing, and she tried to give him a smile. “I’ll be fine, Jemma. But only if you do as I say.” Although he kept his gaze on her face, hers dropped to the black candle that he held between them.

A million excuses ran through her head, mostly consisting of her responsibilities at home or to him, but then she thought of the promise she’d made to Trip and the headmaster only an hour before. Perhaps her mother would know how to find a fallen star – which would lead her right back here, to her father and to the friend who had just promised to propose. 

Giving her father a determined nod, Jemma leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and then grabbed both the candle and the matchbox before she could think twice about it. Within seconds, she’d lit the candle and disappeared from the attic with a bright flash, knocking Steve briefly backwards into the wall. When he recovered, all that was left of his daughter was a dark scorch mark on the wood and a few bits of paper that floated slowly back to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I much prefer to have a week in between posting chapters (for both editorial purposes and to soothe my own neuroses), I may end up editing & updating chapters one at a time for the next few weeks. If you see this appear in the tag with new publication dates, that's why!


	2. Shooting Star

As Steve convinced his daughter to leave home for the first time in her life, many miles away a rather disgruntled young man struggled into a sitting position in the middle of a large crater. If anyone had asked, he would have said that he was far past disgruntled and well into actively annoyed, but since he had just been yanked rather unceremoniously away from his home he had probably earned his bitterness. This young man, in fact, was the star who had just been so rudely removed from his home in the heavens by a horrifically gaudy necklace – which he quickly untangled from its tight position around his neck – and his name was Fitz.

Fitz had always known that he shone brighter than many of the stars in the surrounding sky, but it had never occurred to him that he might be separated from his siblings for doing so, and now he was at a loss for what to do. As he tried to get his bearings, a sharp pain shot up from his left leg and he winced, trying to determine if the bone was fractured or just badly bruised. His toes wiggled in the white slippers (that the magic of Shieldhold had gifted him upon being removed from his normal, heaven-bound form) and he determined that he could probably walk himself out of there when he was ready. 

The necklace drew his attention, and he pulled the large pendant away from himself to peer at it. Moonlight shone on its clear, crystalline surface, heavy, golden tendrils curling around its edges, and he wondered briefly who on earth would’ve made such an unattractive object. But then again, the only thing Fitz knew for certain right now was that this necklace had taken him out of the sky – so perhaps it was his way home again. Tucking the pendant under his white cotton shirt, he got unsteadily to his feet, gingerly putting weight on his damaged leg and cringing.

Before he could move much farther, however, a sudden flash lit the dark crater and something heavy bowled Fitz straight over and onto the ground again. When his variety of new pains settled into a dull ache, he pried open his eyes to see that the something was actually a someone, and he was looking into the confused face of a very pretty young woman with golden-brown eyes.

“You’re not my mother.”

Much to Jemma’s own confusion, her flight using the candle had sent her not to a mysterious land to find her enigmatic mother, but to a large crater, empty except for the young man on top of whom she had landed. He was now frowning up at her under a mop of curly, sand-blond hair, eyes narrowing as he processed her words.

“Well spotted.”

“Why did it take me here?” Jemma wondered this mostly to herself, glancing away from her new acquaintance to peer at her surroundings.

“Because the universe clearly has it in for me today,” Fitz groused, struggling to free one of his arms and reaching up to rub at the new bump on the back of his head. “Can you get off me now?” 

“Oh!” Flushing, Jemma rolled inelegantly off him and scrambled to her feet. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t – are you alright? Can I help?” She reached out a hand to lift him up, but he waved her off, standing slowly and wincing the whole time.

“No, thanks, you’ve done more than enough already.” He turned irritably away from her and Jemma had to stop herself from lecturing him on the proper way to accept someone’s apology – until something occurred to her.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, staring at the half-burned candle in her hand. “Light the candle and think of me. The Academy and the star popped into my head....” Twirling rapidly around, Jemma started scanning the ground. “Have you seen a fallen star anywhere?” 

Having only made it a few steps towards the edge of the crater, Fitz aimed a slight glare in her direction. “You’re a right comedian, you are.”

“No,” Jemma said earnestly, completely missing the incredulous look on his face, “really, we’re in a crater. This must be where it fell.”

“Yeah, this _is_ where it fell.” The droll tone to Fitz’s voice made her look up to where he was standing, scowling at her with his hands on his hips. “Or, if you want to be really specific, up there –” he gestured to the sky, “– is where this weird, bloody necklace came out of nowhere and knocked it out of the heavens when it was minding its own business. And over there is where it landed. And right here, yeah, _this_ is where it got hit by a magical flying moron!”

His face was quite pink by the time he finished saying all that, and there was a long silence between the two of them as Jemma processed what he’d just said. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled – or maybe it was the sound of some of Fitz’s siblings giggling up in the sky.

“ _You’re_ the star?!”

“Give the girl a medal,” he deadpanned, turning to continue his trudging limp towards the crater’s edge and nearby forest. 

Undaunted, Jemma hurried to catch up to him – which, truthfully, didn’t require very much hurrying. “Are all stars actually people?”

“No, stars are actually stars, funnily enough,” he snapped, earning him an annoyed huff. Pausing for a second to rest his injured leg, Fitz squinted up at the sky. “I’ve heard rumors, though, of terrible things happening to stars who end up in the kingdom of Shieldhold. Haven’t seen it myself, I spent most of my time watching England.”

“Then why do you sound like that?” Jemma hadn’t actually meant to bring it up, but the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“Sound like what?”

“Like you’re from Scotland. I’ve never been, but my favorite physician was from Scotland and he sounded an awful lot like you.”

Fitz spluttered for a few moments, having honestly never given thought to the way his voice sounded until that second. “Well – I – I mean, why do _you_ sound like _that_?”

“Because I was born and grew up in England. Although my father is American, so some of my phrasing is diluted.” 

He gave her another funny look and then shook his head. “I dunno why I sound... the way I do. Maybe my atoms came from Scotland or something. I’ve only had this body for twenty minutes, y’know, I don’t know much about it yet.” 

Jemma made a small hum of acceptance and then proceeded to study him intently, making Fitz feel rather like he’d ended up in a museum display. “You’re very interesting.” Unsure of how to respond to that, he grumbled indistinctly and continued limping towards the forest. “So, if I may say in advance – I’m really very sorry for this.” Keeping stride with him, she wound the small piece of chain around his wrist, the silver magically stretching in length until it was a proper leash. 

He stood stock-still and stared at the chain, cheeks heating up in fear, annoyance, and more than a bit of disappointment. “What the hell –” 

“I’m afraid I need you to come with me,” she said, tugging the chain as she strode ahead of him. “It’s rather a long story, but if it makes you feel any better it’s all in the name of science. And, well....” She trailed off, trying to get herself to sound as excited as she should feel. “And when I bring you back, my friend is going to propose to me.”

“Of course,” Fitz muttered, tripping briefly over a small branch. “Nothing says romance like the gift of a kidnapped, injured man.”

They proceeded in silence for a few minutes, with him surreptitiously studying the make of the chain around his wrist and wondering if he might be able to break through it somehow.

“Oh! How terribly rude of me.” Jemma stopped short, causing Fitz to stumble as he attempted to avoid crashing right into her. “My name’s Jemma.” Switching the chain to her left hand, she held out her right and then looked expectantly at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, trying to settle himself more solidly on his good foot, and then froze as he realized what he’d said.

“What?”

“I mean, um, y’know, good, now I know the name of my captor. Makes me feel loads better, thanks.”

Although she wasn’t quite convinced by his explanation, she couldn’t think of anything more plausible so she let it go. “And...?” Jemma waved her outstretched hand in his direction.

Giving her another incredulous look, Fitz reached out to give her a brief shake and tried not to focus too much on what it felt like to touch someone for the first time. (Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop himself from taking in the fragility of her skin, the way he could feel the fineness of her bones just barely shifting beneath muscle, and he wondered if all humans were quite so soft.)

“Fitz.” 

Her face twisted in amusement, and she turned away, tugging the chain gently after her. “Fitz?”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s just – that’s not a very _star_ -like name, is it?”

“Well, we can’t all be named Sirius, can we?”

Jemma let out a small laugh, and Fitz couldn’t quite hide the pleased smile that escaped at hearing that sound. But he reminded himself that she’d just effectively kidnapped him and he should _not_ , under any circumstances, find her adorable, or get along with her in any manner. So he snapped his gaze back to the ground and slowed his limp, trying very hard to focus on the fact that she was leading him up the steep edge of the crater on a leash. 

Once they finally reached the treeline – after quite a few stumbles and some muffled swearing on both their parts – Jemma couldn’t stop herself from letting out a rather large yawn. “Oh, I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said, stifling another yawn. “Better to rest until dawn anyway, since neither of us know anything about this forest. Or, actually, I don’t know – stars can see quite a lot from up there, I suppose, did you ever watch this area?” As she spoke, she settled herself within the roots of a large, sprawling tree at the forest’s edge, twisting the end of her leash more tightly around her wrist.

“No, I didn’t.”

Fitz shifted awkwardly from foot-to-foot for a few moments, and then gave the sky a longing glance before sitting down a few meters away from her. Dew began to seep almost immediately through his thin, cotton garments, and he curled his knees up to his chest to ward off some small amount of chill. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, turning his gaze yet again to his former home. “It may have escaped your notice, but this is sort of when stars do their thing. Nighttime. Y’know, twinkling, shining, all that.”

Trying to make herself comfortable against the curve of a particularly large root, Jemma chuckled. “Well, it may have escaped _yours_ , but you’re not in the sky anymore. So you might want to try to rest now – unless you have some magical ability to sleep while you’re walking. I can’t say for certain but I think we’ve got a long way to go if I’m to make it home by next week.” She paused, flicking her eyes up at the waving branches of the tree and forcing a note of excitement into her voice. “That’s when Trip’s going to be back with my engagement ring.”

Fitz let out a snort of derision and rested his chin on his knees. “Yes, well, good luck with getting back in time, because I don’t see how I’m going to go very far on this thing,” he muttered, pointing at his injured leg.

A rather loud noise of disgust burst from underneath the tree, and Fitz turned to see Jemma staring at him with a deep frown between her brows. “You – you are possibly the grumpiest star in the universe.” 

“Says the woman who kidnapped me _and then_ introduced herself!”

“You know,” she said, cheeks fading into a pretty shade of pink, “I _was_ going to put you back in the sky once I’d brought you home with me, but since you’d clearly rather sit here and complain just forget about it.” With that, she turned her back to him, head thudding a little too loudly on the tree root she was attempting to use as a pillow.

Rolling his eyes, Fitz just shook his head and continued to stare morosely out at the impressive crater his fall had produced. “And how were you planning on getting me back to the sky, exactly?”

For a few moments, the only sound between them was the conversation of nearby crickets, most of whom were still terrified that another blaze of destruction would come raining from the sky onto their home at any second. In between their chirps, Jemma tried to convince herself not to feel so cross with him; he _was_ right about her having technically kidnapped him, but she really did have the best intentions. In truth, he had every right to hate her – as he so clearly did – and her snapping back at him didn’t help anyone, particularly if she wanted to get any sleep at all tonight.

She half-turned, dug around in her dress pocket, and held up the black candle so that he could see it. “I’ve found that the fastest way to travel is by candlelight.”

Inhaling sharply, Fitz turned to stare at her, mouth working silently before he found his voice again. “You’ve got a _Babylon candle_.” 

“Yes,” she replied, brightening at the excitement written across his features, “I’ve got a bubbling candle.” 

“A Babylon candle,” he corrected automatically, watching her return it to her pocket.

“That’s what I said.” 

“You said ‘bubbling.’”

Wrinkling her nose at his refusal to let her mistake go, she shifted to lie on her back, staring up at the stars through the spring-green leaves. “Anyway, I was going to give it to you once we got to Wall. My home town, that is.”

Fitz eyed the lump in the pocket of her dress, and resettled his chin on his knees, trying very much not to feel pleased that she’d thought of returning him to his home without him ever asking. “Yes, well, that has barely one use left.”

Jemma let out a disbelieving laugh and turned back towards him. “So be glad I’m not using it right now to get us back to my house!” The way he tilted his head at her reproof reminded her distinctly of a scolded puppy, and she watched him for a few more minutes as he studiously pretended that she wasn’t doing just that.

How strange it must be, she mused, to not only be ripped from your home but then to become something very different from what you were – all within seconds. If anyone had told her prior to tonight that stars looked just like human beings, she would have laughed in their face. And yet here Fitz was just a few feet from her side, very human and probably very scared. There was something slightly otherworldly about him, although she couldn’t put her finger on it – maybe it was the way the cobalt of his irises shone in the moonlight, or how his curls puffed upwards in the light breeze. He didn’t look much older than she – in fact, he could even be a little bit younger.

“How old are you?”

Fitz slid his eyes in her direction; for someone who was supposed to be sleeping, she didn’t look very tired. “A few millennia.” 

“How many?”

“Does it matter?” He cringed at the sharpness to his tone; he didn’t _really_ mean to be quite so rude, but it slipped effortlessly out of his mouth. Being in human form was turning out to be far more complicated than just being a star. 

“Well, no,” she said, sounding somewhat bashful. “But I was just thinking you look like you’re about my age, and I’m twenty, so....”

Humming in understanding, he stared down at the slippers Shieldhold’s magic had given him. (They were actually very uncomfortable, and he wondered briefly if he might be able to buy a pair of proper shoes when they arrived at the nearest town.) “Stars don’t really keep time the same way that you lot do. It doesn’t – it doesn’t feel like a long time, to us. Or, well, it _does_ , but only when we... when there’s something that we’ve grown attached to. I’m not sure how to explain it.” 

“Interesting,” she murmured. “You know, I used to talk to the stars.” Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him tense up, and she studied him for a clue as to why. His only response was to make a noncommittal noise of acknowledgment, so she kept going. “I was – I found most of the children my age rather boring, and they didn’t have much interest in me either. But my father always liked to tell me that the stars could hear me, so... I used to spend hours out there in the evenings with my dolls, and whatever little experiments I could sneak away. Sometimes I almost felt like the stars were listening, or even just about to speak back.” 

She chuckled at her own childish foolishness, purposefully keeping at bay the loneliness the memories brought with them – and the acknowledgment that she’d done something similar only a few weeks prior, when she’d been faced yet again with the fact that, as a woman, she wasn’t welcome at the Academy. When she turned to look at Fitz again, however, the intensity of his stare almost took her breath away. “What?”

Blinking, he shook his head, as if just realizing that she could see him. “What? Nothing. Aren’t you supposed to be getting your beauty rest or something?”

Jemma resettled on her side and released an annoyed _tsk_. “Fine, never mind. Sit here in silence all night, then.”

In truth, she was exhausted, and once she calmed her mind she was fast asleep in moments. The same could not be said for Fitz, who sat next to Jemma for hours and tried very hard not to watch her sleep. Eventually he passed out, slumping ungracefully into a ball just a foot or so away from her, but his dreams were disjointed and dark, and when he awoke he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

Dawn broke over the horizon far sooner than either of them wished, although this only bothered Jemma because she didn’t have her normal recourse for washing up. Rising early came naturally to her, even if she preferred to have a full breakfast and that was certainly not possible out in the middle of nowhere. They shared the single apple she’d happened to have in her pocket from the day before and then started their long and somewhat aimless trudge towards any kind of civilization, bickering frequently – and occasionally getting on far better than Jemma would have expected. Until, that is, Fitz tripped over his fourth root of the day and then sat rather defiantly beneath a nearby tree, swearing under his breath.

After waiting for him to stand again, which he resolutely did not do, Jemma tugged weakly on the silver chain. “What are you doing?”

“I’m resting.”

“Oh, please, Fitz, we talked about this. I promise we’ll rest once we reach the next town, but we’ve only got a week –” 

“To get you to your bloody boyfriend, I know –” 

“He’s not actually my boyfriend –” 

“Please, Jemma, I’m exhausted.” It was the desperate note to his voice that brought her attention fully to his face, wan even in the dappled sunlight, and the way that he winced as he rubbed at his swollen leg. “It must be past noon, and I’m _never_ up this late. Please – let me sleep.”  

Sighing, Jemma couldn’t help but relent, and gave the area a quick glance before striding all the way around the thick-trunked tree by which he sat. “Alright, I’ll go fetch us some food – the road’s been getting nicer, I don’t think we’re too far away from a town now. But stay on _this_ side of the tree, okay? I don’t want bandits or something finding you in your sleep.” Once she reached the other end of the chain, her end automatically connected to the part that led to his wrist, neatly sealing his binding with magic.

“You really think I’m going to run away like this?” He waved a hand at his leg and she pursed her lips. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Fitz frowned and watched her hurry away, long, periwinkle skirt flapping against the tree bark as she disappeared. The idea of sleeping without anyone nearby to watch him made him quite nervous, but he knew he had no choice – and he was so worn out that once he was lying down he was asleep instantly. Yet again, dark dreams plagued him, visions of molten rocks and spiked creatures keeping him from ever fully relaxing into unconsciousness, until the long, shrill howl of a wolf woke him at last. Hours had passed, and the forest was yet again covered by the night sky, although it was early enough that the moon itself had not risen. Scrambling up to stand against the tree, Fitz looked wildly about, trying to get his bearings in the darkness and figure out how close the howling wolf was. Something rustled in the nearby brush, and he inhaled, trying not to panic about how he was a star, for God’s sake, and he’d never needed to defend himself against anyone or anything.

“Jemma? Is – is that you?” There was no answer but another faint howl, and further rustling. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny! Forest safety is serious business.” The sound simply got closer and closer, and he tried to press himself as tightly against the tree as possible, hoping that maybe whatever monster approached would simply not see him.

An unmistakable soft clopping faded in over the rest of the forest’s nighttime symphony, and shortly the gently glowing form of a unicorn stepped out into the open. A nervous laugh burst out of Fitz’s throat, and he bent over in relief. “Oh, thank God, it’s only you.” Although he had not spent much time watching Shieldhold, he knew that unicorns were rarely sighted and universally good and kind (unless they were being threatened). In short, her arrival was the best thing to happen to him all day, particularly if he wanted to escape the impending howling. 

The magical creature seemed disinterested in his strong reaction to her appearance and simply strode over to tap her horn against the silver chain, which broke apart instantly with a brief, golden spark. She stepped over to him, large, deep eyes taking in the way he shook on his bad leg, and he reached out a shaky hand towards her. “I’m – you can see I’m quite hurt, actually, would you mind if I....” The unicorn made a distinct nod and lowered herself to the ground, shaking her mane out as he scrambled onto the warm expanse of her back. He sat awkwardly forward and half to the side, trying to avoid the discomfort of riding without a saddle as much as possible, but he was so relieved to be in the company of a creature that simply exuded safety that he barely noticed it. “Thank you,” he murmured as she trotted forward towards the road. “Thank you _so_ much.” 

If riding on the unicorn’s back weren't quite so painful, he might have fallen asleep again, her presence providing the kind of security he hadn’t felt since he’d been ripped so rudely from his home. It wasn’t for another few minutes that Fitz realized Jemma would return to that tree and see him gone, but as he was still somewhat annoyed with her he didn’t bother to go back to remedy the problem. Besides, if she wanted to find him, all she had to do was follow the hoof-prints in the forest floor – Jemma was a smart young woman, so he reasoned that she’d figure it out.

Not long after he convinced himself of that, they emerged from the forest road to see a very conveniently located inn, and Fitz sighed with relief. Maybe he’d get to experience a bed for the first time, and he could offer to work off the debt if the proprietors were nice. Best of all, it was close by enough that Jemma would almost certainly look for him there.

“Thank you, again,” he said to the unicorn, giving her nose a fond rub once he’d slid gracelessly off her back. In return, she gave him a distressed huff, tilting her horn worriedly at the building, but he just smiled at her concern. “I’ll be fine on my own. My minder’s too stubborn to let me go, anyway, she’ll find me.” Fitz gave his savior a fond wave, then, and limped toward the inn’s front door, leaving the unicorn to stride slowly away, her instincts telling her that – despite the star’s assurances – nothing good would come of going into that building.

When Fitz slipped through the front door, he was surprised to find it empty. Candles and the fireplace burned, but the entryway was unoccupied. “Hello?”

“You poor thing, are you hurt?” A voice smooth as silk poured from the doorway, and Fitz twisted clumsily around to see that a beautiful woman with tanned skin and long, dark hair had appeared soundlessly behind him. She eyed the way he kept weight off his leg, shifting the large bucket of water that she carried in her hands.

“Oh, I – yes, I, um, fell, and I don’t have any money, but I could work off the cost of one night –”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said, breezing past him towards the staircase. “For an injured soul such as yourself, the cost of a bed is free.” Turning, she gave him a thin smile. “All I require is that you are in good spirits as soon as possible.” 

“Oh,” Fitz breathed, following her slowly up the stairs, “that’s very kind, thanks, really.”

Eyeing the way the star’s skin didn’t have even the hint of a glow, Jiaying waited for him at the top of the stairs, sending a surreptitious sliver of green-tinted magic into the bucket of warm water that she held. “Kindliness is next to godliness,” she joked lightly, and handed over the bucket. “Here, I’ve found that a warm bath does wonders. Second door to the right, and let me know if you require anything else.”

Fitz gave her a grateful smile, stumbling briefly under the weight of the bucket, and nodded. “Right, will do. Thank you.” Unless it was Jiaying’s imagination, she thought she saw a bit of a shine in his blue eyes as he turned away, and she swept away to go prepare as many other ways to make her star as happy as possible. Before she cut out his heart and devoured it, that is. 

Meanwhile, Jemma trudged up the last few meters towards the tree, ruminating on how that had been one of the most frustrating travel experiences she’d ever had. Not that she’d had many, mind you, but it was certainly at the top of her short list. The village had been ludicrously far down along the road, and she managed to choose the wrong fork on her way back, meaning that she’d accidentally looped around and come back to the forest from the other side – and had taken far longer to return than she should’ve. Then she saw that Fitz was no longer tied to the tree, or appeared to be anywhere close by, and her stomach leapt into her throat at the same time that her meager bag of supplies dropped out of her hands.

She ran frantically around the small clearing calling his name, hoping against everything that bandits hadn’t found him as she’d feared they might. When there was no sight or sound of him, she grabbed her bag and strode quickly out onto the road, wondering if maybe she could catch up with the bandits before they got too far away, but then stopped. Dropping her face into her hands, she let out a brief, frustrated scream, allowing herself to be consumed for three whole seconds by the fear that she’d allowed a star, someone so new to this world, to be captured or killed because she’d ignored her own judgment and left him alone. Unfortunately for Jemma, her brief moment of weakness meant that she also didn’t hear the carriage barreling down the road until it was practically upon her, and she had to throw herself out of the way. Her panicked leap was poorly aimed, and although she narrowly missed the unforgiving wooden wheels, her head made sharp contact with a roadside boulder, knocking her unconscious.

Prince Jasper stood briefly up at the reigns of the carriage, not having trusted any of the royal servants to show him any loyalty until he was truly crowned king, and twisted about to see if he had just knocked a peasant over. The horses continued their punishing pace and in the dark forest he couldn’t see anyone, so he shrugged and sat back down, eyes focused on finding someplace to rest for the night. Unbeknownst to him, the ghosts of his five siblings also turned back to the front of the road from their seats within the carriage, and Victoria made a rather rude hand gesture in Jasper’s direction. His hunt for the Shieldhold jewel had so far turned up nothing, but as he was now in the vicinity of the fallen star he hoped the necklace might be somewhere nearby. Much to his relief, the road took him straight to an inn, and he steered his carriage there with the intention of commandeering a room and a bath in the name of the royal family. 

As Jemma lay unconscious by the side of the road, she was simply unaware of anything for quite some time, until eventually soft, ethereal voices faded into her head.

“ _Jemma – Jemma, wake up. Please save our brother, Jemma – he is in grave danger. Fallen stars are highly valued not only for their rarity in Shieldhold but also for their magic. The last time a star fell in these lands, she was found by three witches, who took her in and made her feel at home. Stars glow, you see, when happy, and after a few days with these witches she was very happy indeed. But then they killed her, Jemma – slit her throat and cut out her heart, for whomever possesses the heart of a star can live forever. And so these witches have, and now our brother is about to be trapped by one of them. Please, Jemma, save him – and WAKE UP_.”

She burst into awareness at that and shot into a sitting position, breathing heavily and staring wildly around for the possessor of such an unusual voice and story. But the only beings nearby were invisible forest-dwelling animals – and the stars that shone above her in the depths of the sky. Squinting upwards, Jemma debated her options. Normally, she would have dismissed such an event as a hallucination, but she reminded herself that nothing in Shieldhold was the same as in Wall, and so she scrambled unsteadily to her feet. Forgetting entirely about the bag and food, Jemma sprinted down the road, shaking the last of her head injury off and hoping that she wouldn’t be too late to save the star.

In the dining room of the inn, Fitz sat back against the plush backing of his chair and sighed, tossing his napkin onto his now-empty plate. After three servings of an extremely excellent, hot dinner, he was finally full, and he mused that food was really something stars should look into. Now he actually understood what humans went on about with their cooking and eating, and he had a few ideas of things that he’d really like to try. When he wasn’t full to bursting, that is, which he currently was. He stretched more completely out in his chair, still marveling at how the warm bath had apparently fully healed his leg, and thought that even though it was still nighttime, a good long sleep sounded very appealing indeed.

Peering in from the kitchen, Jiaying watched how Fitz’s skin glowed, lighting up the entire, cavernous room, and she slid her ritual knife out of its hiding place. Candlelight flickered in the carnelian glass blade, and she stepped silently up behind the star’s chair, eyes on the way his head was tipped back and the smooth, pale skin of his throat was bared to her. Then someone knocked loudly on the front door.

Both of them snapped their gazes to the entryway, where Jasper soon pushed it open, stumbling out of the sudden rainstorm and into the completely silent inn. Jiaying swung the glass blade behind her back before either of the others could see it and gave him a strained smile.

“I need a room for the night,” Jasper declared, impatiently waving his cloak in her direction and sending water flying all over the once-pristine floor. “And a warm bath to be drawn up as soon as possible. No food, I have my own. I trust no hand but mine.”

“Of course,” Jiaying said with as much pleasantry as she could muster, and then disappeared into the kitchen to figure out how on earth to get rid of this royal imbecile before he could bring down the mood of her currently-happy star. 

In fact, Fitz’s glow had already diminished slightly at the appearance of the other man, wildly put off by the way he began to strut around the inn floor as if he owned the place. Suddenly aware of the fact that he was wearing rather flimsy cotton clothes that didn’t do much to hide the gaudy gold necklace he still wore, Fitz decided to call it a night and retire to his room. The presence of the gem had not escaped the notice of the five ghosts, however, and all of them made frantic, ineffective gestures and entreaties as they trailed behind their rather dense brother. 

“It’s bigger than my hand,” groused Pietro, who sped around to stand in front of Jasper only to be walked through. “How did he not see it?”

“Not all of us are attracted by shiny things,” snapped Victoria from her perch alongside the banister.

Since they were currently living in another plane of existence, however, Jasper heard none of this, only taking notice of Fitz just before he snuck up the staircase.

“Lucky you escaped the rain.” Jasper gave Fitz a droll smile, and he could only nod in return. “Are you just passing through?”

Coughing, Fitz, looked around with the vain hope that the innkeeper would return quickly and save him from inane small talk. “Uh, yup, yeah, just – on my way. To my home. By the... wall.” He cringed, twisting his thumb into the palm of his other hand. As Jasper stared at the slight young man at the bottom of the staircase, he noticed the outline of a rather large gem through his shirt, hanging on a necklace that looked very familiar. 

At the same time, Jemma skidded to a stop at the bend in the road just across from the inn, nearly slipping in the mud as she did a double take. That entire building hadn’t existed _at all_ when she’d passed by this crossroads earlier in the afternoon, and fear curdled in her stomach. Running as fast as possible with her skirts held up high, Jemma barreled into the inn without giving any thought to a plan. Once she’d managed to stop herself from sliding on the already wet floor, she looked up to see Fitz flicking his eyes between her and a glowering man in royal dress, whose hand was held menacingly out towards her friend. (Later, Jemma would wonder exactly when she’d decided that the star was her friend even though they’d barely known each other for twenty-four hours.)

“Give me that jewel, boy – you don’t know what you’re messing with.”

Seeing the way that Fitz was backing nervously up against the banister, Jemma ran in between the other man and him to grasp his hand. “We need to get out of here,” she whispered urgently, and he tightened his fingers around hers before nodding, bright blue eyes widening in alarm. The sound of a sword being unsheathed drew both of their attentions back to Jasper, and Jemma backed up against Fitz, instinctively shielding his body with hers. 

“I _will_ have that gem –” Jasper started, but his voice cut to a high gurgle as a red-bladed knife sliced smoothly through his throat. Azure blood poured over his skin, and the prince slumped to his knees, revealing the crazed face of the innkeeper just behind him. Neither Jemma nor Fitz could even scream, both of them too frozen with fear to do anything. 

“I do wish that hadn’t been necessary,” Jiaying sighed, letting the blade fall to her side. Jemma came to her senses then, and made a run for the front door, dragging Fitz behind her. Before they could escape, however, Jiaying shot a large ball of green fire at their feet, flames eagerly crawling up the floor and devouring the door entirely. 

Shaking her head sadly at the way that the glow had disappeared entirely from Fitz’s skin, Jiaying wiped the blade off on her dress as he and the girl backed away from her approach. “A happy heart is far more long-lasting, but better to have your pathetic, frightened heart than no heart at all.” She threw another flash of fire to circle them, halting their progress entirely and blocking off their last means of escape. 

Jemma clung to Fitz, allowing herself two seconds to be paralyzed by fear before she came up with an idea. Digging into her pocket, she held up the last half of the black candle to Fitz, meeting his eyes over the top of its wick. “Hold tight to me, and think of home.” Then she stuck her hand into the green flames that surrounded them and, with a bright white flash, they were gone.

With a shrill crash, the glass blade shattered on the wall just behind where they had stood moments before, and Jiaying screamed. Her frustration was made that much more acute by the fact that she could feel age spots appearing on her skin as the strength of her youth dwindled upon every use of her magic. The effects of the last star were wearing off – and she was running out of time.


	3. The Moon and Neptune

Although both Jemma and Fitz were exceedingly grateful to have escaped the witch’s knife, they didn't actually find themselves in a better situation once the swooping feeling of flying wore off and they both opened their eyes. Thanks to some fluke of the Babylon candle’s magic, they found themselves precariously suspended in the cloud layer somewhere over Shieldhold, dodging heavy rain, wind, and the occasional bolt of lightning.

“What the _HELL_ did you do?!” Shaking hair out of her eyes, Jemma flinched as lighting flashed barely a few hundred meters from them, and grabbed onto Fitz’s arm to keep him from floating away.

“What did _I_ do?!” he spluttered, flailing his free hand about to attempt to keep some sort of balance. “What did _you_ do?!" 

“Oh _no_ ,” she wailed, having suddenly realized what had happened. “You thought of _your_ home and I thought of _my_ home –” 

“You just said ‘home,’ how was I –”

“Why would I mean _your_ home?! The sky is completely useless –”

“Because I rather _like_ my home, you know –”

“– To me! How are we going to get –” 

“– And maybe I don’t _want_ to be toted around on a leash –”

“– You back to Gonzalez _now_?!”

Fitz stopped mid-retort and frowned down at her, blinking the rain out of his eyes. “Who’s Gonzalez?”

A heavy net lined with large rocks fell over the both of them, and they dropped abruptly through the cloud layer with loud, matching screams. Their fall only lasted for a few seconds though, with both of them making pained “oofs” as they collided with a hard, wooden surface.

“Look what we’ve caught, Captain Hook!”

“I’ve told you not to call me that, Skye.” 

“Sorry, sir.” 

Shifting painfully over so he wasn’t flat on his face, Fitz’s breath caught in fear as he stared up at the group of ruffians and pirates who were now scrutinizing their new prisoners. Curiously, most of them wore ungainly goggles, which implied that either they spent a lot of time in terrifying thunderstorms such as this or they’d all just come from a long swim. After a moment of charged silence, Jemma grabbed for Fitz’s hand and squeezed hard. He turned to her and she gave him a terse nod as if to say that she was right beside him, no matter what this new terror would entail, and he found that a shred of his fear faded... just barely.

Closest to them was a girl about Jemma’s age with long, dark hair, holding a complicated-looking cylindrical contraption. She’d lifted her goggles just long enough to get a clearer glimpse of the prisoners but snapped them back onto her face as a man strode up next to her. The newcomer wore black pirate garb, and, truth be told, he didn’t look anything like a typical pirate – aside from the hook that protruded from his left arm instead of a hand. His hairline was receding, he was of medium stature, and, although his gaze was calculating, his eyes crinkled in a way that seemed rather too kind to have taken well to the brutish life of piracy.

“Honestly, Coulson, they don’t _look_ like any of Bobbi’s lightning raiders.” This new voice came from a pale, scruffy man standing with his arms crossed behind the girl, but he was interrupted by the taller, dark-skinned pirate next to him, who had clearly suffered from some disfigurement significant enough that he required the use of an eye-patch.

“Because Captain Morse let you get _so_ familiar with her crew before kicking you out –” 

“I’ll have you know that I left on my own, thanks very –” 

“Enough.” Everyone on deck stilled instantly, and, with that one word it became abundantly clear to both Fitz and Jemma why the unassuming Coulson had command of this ship. “Thank you, Hunter and Peterson, for your input, but since we’ve got better things to do right now we’re just going to lock ‘em up. Handcuffs first, questions later.”

“Please, we just got here by accident,” Jemma started, turning wide eyes to Fitz.

He nodded quickly, catching on. “Yes, honestly, we’ve never heard of a Captain Morse or a Bobbi –”

“We’d just like to be put back on Earth, please....” But she trailed off as Coulson fixed them with a cold stare.

“That’s exactly what her raiders would say.” Glancing down at the girl, who was still staring curiously at the two of them, Coulson turned towards the head of the ship. “Skye, get that thing ready. No idea how much longer this storm’ll last.”

“Yes, sir,” said the girl, shouldering the copper contraption and striding ahead of him to the edge of the ship, her figure briefly backlit by another thunderous flash.

“Peterson, take them to the brig,” Coulson tossed back before disappearing into the mass of rain-swept and rather less-friendly faces.  

Despite his intimidating size and appearance, Peterson was actually quite gentle in dragging them beneath the deck of the ship, both of them too frightened to ask him any questions. After sitting them back-to-back on a large crate, he carefully secured irons around their wrists. Observing his unusual gait as he made to leave, Jemma thought she caught a glimpse of something metallic snaking up one forearm.

Before shutting the door, Peterson gave them both a considered onceover. “If I were you,” he warned, “once the Captain decides your fate, I’d do what you’re told.” A series of locks and clicks sounded once he’d closed them in, and his looming shadow slid over the wooden wall visible through the door’s barred window.

After a few seconds of struggling ineffectually against her bonds, Jemma groaned. “Oh Fitz, I’m _so_ sorry –”

“No, it’s my fault, really –”

“You never would have been here if it weren’t for me –”

“I dunno why I thought about _my_ home, it was stupid –”

“Now you’re in danger _again_ –” 

“You would’ve died up there, humans can’t live in the sky –”

“And they can _not_ find out what you are!” He made an incredulous noise and she winced. “Sorry! I’m not very good at being secretive.”

Sighing, Fitz shrugged and tried to make his arms more comfortable where they were twisted behind his back. “If we were almost anywhere else, that’d probably be a good thing.” 

“I suppose,” she muttered, somewhat mollified. “Honesty’s always been very important to me.” Frustrated with not being able to see him as they spoke, Jemma shifted awkwardly to the side of the box. Her right arm was pulled at an uncomfortable angle in this position, but at least she could see him; she gave brief thought to instructing him to follow her lead, but that felt a little overly bossy, even to her. 

The silence that hovered between them then felt rather tense, and Fitz cleared his throat. “I, um – since we’re stuck here anyway... I actually owe you another apology. A real one.” 

“And your other one was, what, a pretend one?” 

“What? No! Christ, can’t you let a st– man apologize without interrupting?”

“Sorry,” she whispered, cringing at how easily he pointed out all of her flaws. Humans must seem so small and petty to the stars.

“What I meant to say was... um, that I wasn’t totally honest with you when we first met.” Fitz inhaled, embarrassment curling up through his chest and making his face feel exceedingly warm, despite the cool air against his damp skin and clothes. “Remember how you said you used to talk the stars? And sometimes you thought they might be listening?” Jemma nodded, brows furrowed as she tried to follow his train of thought. “Well, um, sometimes they were. I mean, sometimes I _was_. Answered back, too, but you can’t hear us over the wall.” Her jaw dropped open and she turned to stare at the back of his head, observing the faint flush that colored his ears. “Not – um, not _all_ the time, you know, it wasn’t like I was watching you or anything. But we get bored up there, and it’s not hard to multitask twinkling, so sometimes I’d hear you talking and I’d sort of... join in.” Fitz exhaled shakily, trying very hard (and failing) to downplay exactly how nervous this made him. “That’s how I knew who you were. Couldn’t believe it when you mowed me down in the bloody crater.”

“Oh.” If she weren’t so surprised, she’d tell him that she had absolutely no idea how to react. Until two days ago, she hadn’t even known that magic or this entire kingdom existed, let alone that her de-facto childhood imaginary friend was real. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and she could feel him try to pull away from her despite their metal bonds. “If that makes you uncomfortable. It was only when you went to the field, I didn’t just, like, stare at you or something. Only, I sort of thought we’d get on, not that I _ever_ expected we’d meet, and you seemed so....” 

“Lonely,” she finished for him, voice quiet. He glanced down at his lap, something in his stomach tightening at hearing the word he’d been reluctant to use.

“Yeah. Though I never really understood why, to be honest, you’re smarter than everyone else in that town. Maybe even the whole country.” She laughed at that, and Fitz smiled in relief to hear the sound, even if he couldn’t see her at the moment. If she was seriously weirded out by him, he reasoned that she wouldn’t have laughed.

“I never found anyone that interesting, really. Although I suppose it’s my own fault. I always thought that stars would be better – that they’d be smarter for being able to see so much, or something ridiculous like that.” Jemma chuckled at her willful childhood stupidity, but she couldn’t completely ignore the sharp pang she felt at remembering the nights she’d spent in that field. Even if she hadn’t actually been alone, she hadn’t known that at the time.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, then,” he joked self-deprecatingly, but she shook her head.

“No, I find you quite fascinating,” she started, and then blushed. “I just – that machine you were describing yesterday is brilliant.”

Straightening his slouch at her praise, Fitz shrugged in a pale imitation of humility. “It’s just to press coffee beans, it won’t start a revolution –”

“Even the smallest inventions can change the world,” Jemma quipped. “And I’m sure you’ve got other ideas, I can just tell.”

Fitz’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before his shoulders sunk again, and he scraped the bottom of his sodden shoe against the wood. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m a... you know, I can’t exactly invent things from up there. There’s no point to me coming up with things that I can’t make.” 

“Maybe there is,” she said softly, giving his arm a small nudge. “You’re not up there now.”

He shook his head and exhaled, knowing that it was pointless. “Stars don’t... there’re no expectations for us. We’re born, we burn, we die. We watch people want things and dream,” he said quietly, half-hoping that she wouldn’t hear him. Stars did not create machines or save people; they watched. That was his lot in life, and pretending to be something or someone else would be pointless. “So, you didn’t answer my question before we were kidnapped.” Needing to clear his voice, he paused, and Jemma wrinkled her nose at his obvious topic change. “Who’s Gonzalez?”

“Ah, yes,” she muttered, rotating her wrists uncomfortably in the cuffs. “Well, he’s the one I’m bringing you back for.”

“I thought your fiancé’s name was Trip –” A loud thunderclap sounded in the nearby clouds, and he waited for the following drumroll to cease before speaking again. In the meantime, having finally gotten annoyed with staring at the wooden wall of the ship rather than the person to whom he was speaking, Fitz shuffled around on the box until they were sitting hip to hip. His left arm and her right one were pulled rather tight now, but at least they were almost face-to-face.

“Gonzalez is the headmaster of the local Academy,” Jemma explained, more subdued than she had been a few moments ago. “I’m not leaving you with him, for what it’s worth – I don’t trust him at all. But he won’t let me enroll, even though I’m far more qualified than more than half of their current students, just because I’m a girl, and –”

“Horseshite!” Fitz stared at her with wide, incredulous eyes, and small kernel of warmth bloomed in her chest at his indignation. “What does you being a girl have to do with it?”

She sighed. “Excellent question. In any case, he said that if I could bring him a fallen star then he’d reconsider my application in time to meet the deadline for next term, which is five days from now. And if that doesn’t work, then... then Trip will just have to keep teaching me while we’re married.”

“Right,” he said, dropping his gaze to his lap. After falling onto and being briefly dragged along the muddied deck of the ship, his once-white trousers were utterly filthy, and he tried not to think about how these might be not just the first clothes he’d ever worn, but also possibly the last. “I don’t think I ever said thank you, you know.”

“For what?”

“For saving me. From the witch.” He met her gaze with a tight smile before looking away again. “I wouldn’t have known I was in danger at all if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh,” Jemma said warmly, “you’re quite welcome.” Silence fell between them, and she inhaled, wondering how on earth she was going to get him out of this new predicament. “Don’t worry, Fitz. I’m going to keep you safe.”

Darkness lasted for a few more hours throughout the kingdom of Shieldhold, but by the time the sun rose the clouds had disappeared and with them went the rain, which left fields of the greenest new grass and a lingering scent of freshness. To some people, however, this beauty was irrelevant, as they had more important duties to which they must attend. Of this “some people,” chief among them was Prince Grant, who had just stumbled upon the throat-slit corpse of his brother by the side of the road. Where once there had stood a large, appealing inn, there now was only dirt, weeds, and a disgusting amount of drying, navy blood.

Grant had been waiting impatiently for the return of the scouts he’d sent to search the nearby crater for the royal necklace. Although he wasn’t certain of his father’s methods – no one ever had been – it seemed that a large crater in the same direction that the necklace had flown was as good a place to start searching as any. While waiting for their return, he’d strode to the side of the road to piss and almost fallen over his brother’s legs, much to the amusement of the ghosts who watched his every move. Well, to the amusement of all the ghosts but the one who had, until recently, resided within the body that had been tripped over.

“Just as invisible as ever, Jasper,” Victoria drawled with a smirk, and the newly-dead brother wished darkly that he’d been the one to kill her when he was still alive. 

Unaware of the continued presence of his siblings, Grant straightened from where he’d been peering at the body, an incredulous smile stretching across his face. “I’m the last brother alive – I’m _king_.” The ghosts all let out various noises of dissent, with Pietro sticking his tongue out for added effect. “But I still need the gem to be crowned,” he groaned, kicking at the dirt in annoyance. 

“Your highness,” called one of his guards, directing his horse to gallop over to the prince. A small coterie of other soldiers followed close behind him, having just returned from their scouting. “We found no trace of the gem or a necklace in the crater, but we found a witness whose brother was kidnapped nearby this morning.”

Swinging himself into the saddle of his own horse, Grant shot his guard a droll glare. “And this is relevant to me how…?”

“She said that she hid while a witch turned her brother into a horse, and then watched the witch speak into a ring about cutting out the heart of a star.”

“A star...!” The necklace’s specific trajectory away from the castle now made far more sense – it had latched onto a star, which was now being hunted for its magical, life-extending properties by some witch. “Just think,” Grant murmured, “I could be king _forever_.”

Behind him, his siblings all groaned in unison.

While the prince set out with a new goal in mind, Jiaying slowed the trot of her horse as she approached a parked, yellow caravan. A small fire burned within a circle of rocks, and a young woman in a flower-patterned dress glanced up from her kettle. Other than the blue jay perched on the roof of the caravan, there was no one else to be seen for miles around.

Her dark curls blowing in the cliff-top wind, the other woman stood as Jiaying slid gracefully off her steed. “Who goes there? I’m but a simple flower merchant, I have –”

“Oh, do be quiet,” Jiaying said, brushing off her dress and throwing a critical eye at the wrinkles rapidly appearing on her hands. “I know what you are, and I swear by the ordinances of the sisterhood to which we _both_ belong that I mean you no harm this day.”

The younger woman raised an eyebrow and nodded into a smile. Her name was Raina, although she had no intention of sharing that with this stranger, and she was very curious about how this other witch came to be in her part of the countryside. “Well, one can never be too careful.”

“If you have any to spare, I have traveled far with no food or sustenance,” Jiaying started, but the other woman waved her into silence as she reached for a nearby teacup.

“I’ll get you a seat.”

Raina snapped her fingers, and with a whoosh of smoke the blue jay transformed into a beautiful woman with brown hair, defiance clouding every one of her features as she grabbed a stool from the caravan and plopped it down by the fire. The silver chain attached to her ankle slithered after her in the grass, and she turned back to her mistress. “Anything else?” 

“No,” Raina said, and with a snap of her fingers the woman was a bird again, trapped by a single, magical chain. As Jiaying made herself comfortable, Raina handed over a steaming cup of tea. “Here, ease your thirst while I fetch you something to eat.” Nodding her thanks, the other woman sipped slowly at the tea, carefully eyeing the hedge witch and debating her potential usefulness. “So, where are you headed off to on this fine day?”

Inhaling the jasmine scent, a smile slipped across Jiaying’s normally-controlled features. “I seek a fallen star – he fell not far from here. And when I find him, I shall cut out his heart while he still lives, and the glory of my youth shall be restored.”

Eyebrows raised, Raina smiled as she opened a tin of biscuits, not noticing the increasingly angry expression on the other witch’s face. “A fallen star? That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages – I’ve never liked the idea of growing old. Where did you –”

“Limbus grass!” Jiaying dashed the cup against the fire, stretching up to her full height to tower over the hedge witch. “You dare to steal truth from my lips! Do you have any idea what a huge mistake you’ve made, Raina?”

Watching as dark clouds swirled rapidly in over their little encampment, Raina cowered at the sight of her fury. “How do you know my....”

“I would wager to say that you’ve heard of the dark witch Jiaying and her siblings,” she spoke, voice deep and crackling with magic.

Raina dropped to her knees on the grass, hands outstretched and shrinking from the putrid smoke that seeped from Jiaying’s clothes. “I won’t seek the star, Your Dark Majesty, I swear –” 

“Seek all you wish,” Jiaying intoned, green flashes twisting out of her fingers to curl into Raina’s eyes. “You shall not see the star, touch it, smell or hear it. You will not perceive him even if he stands before you.” Raina fell forward, gasping for breath. “Pray you never meet me again, girl.” Then Jiaying swung up on to her horse and galloped away, the anger thrumming through her veins a far greater source of energy than tea and biscuits.

Back in the brig of the lightning pirates’ ship, neither Fitz nor Jemma had gotten much sleep, partially because they were sitting up and partially because they didn’t trust their captors farther than they could throw them. (Which, admittedly, wouldn't have been very far - neither the human nor the star would have been able to pass any sort of field test, should they have been given one.) Having actually slept for most of the afternoon and evening the day prior, Fitz was faring slightly better than Jemma, and he’d been trying to keep her mind off her exhaustion. 

“So, tell me about Trip.” He figured it was a solid route of conversation that required no amount of concentration, and he might as well hear about the man to whom he was a sort-of engagement present. (Well, that and a pseudo-application fee.) Drowsy, Jemma made a brief noise of confusion, and he nudged her shoulder. “Y’know, your fiancé.” 

“He’s not my fiancé,” she shot back automatically, and Fitz raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, almost-fiancé. C’mon, I thought most girls liked talking about that sort of thing.”

An indignant scoff sounded from Jemma’s direction. “I’m not most girls.” 

“Well isn’t _that_ the bloody truth,” he groused, feeling rather put out that she didn’t appreciate his attempts to be helpful.

After a few seconds of silence, Jemma yawned. “Oh, Fitz, I’m sorry, I’m just –”

“Really tired –” 

“And I shouldn’t have snapped at you –”

“S’alright, I was no better –”

“You didn’t deserve that –”

“Cheers.” He smiled at her, and she nodded gratefully before turning to stare in front of them. For a few long moments, she didn’t say anything, and Fitz tried coming up with a different question to ask her. As much as he was theoretically doing this to help keep her spirits up, he also really enjoyed listening to her talk. There was a reason why he’d kept returning to that field by the wall, after all.  

But she spoke again before he could come up with something. “He’s quite smart. At least, he’s genuinely interested in his studies, which is more than can be said about most of the other boys at the Academy. And he’s a rather good tutor, although he always thinks I’ll need more time to understand something than I ever do.” She lets a smug smile escape, glancing at Fitz. “I’m much smarter than he is – or I will be, once a receive a proper bloody education.” A cloud passed over her face and she fell into silence; Fitz waited for her to continue talking about Trip, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. “I _deserve_ to go to the Academy.”

“That’s it?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” 

“I mean... you’re marrying him, and the only thing you have to say is that he’s a good tutor?” 

“That’s –” Jemma stumbled over her words, a flush working into her cheeks. “That’s not all! He’s – he’s got a nice sense of humor, and he’s quite well-formed physically, and... and he doesn’t just treat me like a girl! Like a girl who isn’t supposed to want to learn anything.” She made a noise of frustration, dropping her gaze. “You’re a star, you wouldn’t understand. It makes _sense_ to marry him.” 

Feeling the tension in her muscles from where they were pressed side-by-side, Fitz just shrugged and transferred his gaze to his own lap. A celestial being he may be, but he knew a thing or two about how most people expressed affection – and _that_ was not it. But then again, he reminded himself wryly, Jemma was not most people. 

A raucous yell sounded from the ship’s deck, and they turned their heads in unison to stare worriedly at the brig’s thick, wooden door. A group of footsteps approached, and they could just make out the voice of the Captain over the pirates’ general melee.

“If you don’t think that she has the chops, just wait til you see what she squeezes out of these two landlubbers!”

Another hearty yell echoed down the hallway, and with a few clicks of the lock the young girl pirate from the night before was shoved unceremoniously into the room. Jemma and Fitz stared as she brushed off her oddly stylish pirate gear, glanced up at them, and then strode over to a large pile of supplies across from them.

“So,” Skye started, speaking far louder than was necessary, “this is when you tell me who you are, and why you were in the clouds trying to poach our lightning.” When neither of them responded, she grabbed a bale of hay and turned around to grin ominously at them. “We can do this one of two ways.”

“Is one of them the easy way?” Fitz felt the joke die on his lips, and Jemma elbowed him.

“Nope.”

“Oh.” Fitz felt a shard of fear slice through his stomach, and Jemma instantly started rambling beside him.

“My name’s Jemma, and this is my husband Fitz –”

“Your first name is Fitz?” Much to their joint confusion, Skye continued to speak at an overly loud volume – while shredding the bale of hay in to smaller pieces. Despite the interrogative nature of her questions, she didn’t actually seem to be paying them much attention. 

They glanced at each other, and he shook his head. “No.”

“It’s our last name,” Jemma added quickly, thanking everything that was holding that cleaning up after her father’s periodic scuffles meant she had a certain amount of practice with lying on the spot, even if she didn’t relish the task. 

Giving them both a long onceover, Skye laughed. “Good thing marriage vows don’t matter to us pirates!”

Jemma frowned. “What?”

“You,” Skye said, dropping her hay and sashaying over towards Fitz’s side of the container, “are _far_ too pretty to bed just one woman every night!” Fitz winced at both the painfully loud volume of her voice and the uncomfortable implications of that statement, which was made even more awkward by the way she leaned over him to get to the chain that connected their handcuffs.

“You leave him alone,” Jemma started, but Skye yanked painfully at her chain and halted the rest of her sentence.

“It’s share and share alike aboard Coulson’s vessel,” the pirate snarled, and although Jemma flinched she would’ve sworn she saw something like disgust flit across Skye’s face as she spoke. “And as his protégé, I get first pick of the booty.” She let out a small snort of laughter, yanking Jemma up off the crate as she yelled her next words. “And I choose his!” Whoops and cheers sounded from above them, and as the noise continued she leaned in very close to Jemma, speaking with quiet urgency. “I need you to trust me from here on out, okay? Take off your clothes.”

Fitz let out an indignant squawk, and Jemma’s mouth dropped open. “What –” 

The yells from above started to die down. “I’m your best shot at getting out of here alive, so do as I say,” she hissed, and as Skye stepped away Jemma realized that she’d unlocked the cuffs during the other pirates’ cheers. Glancing at Fitz, she gave him a helpless shake of her head and began undoing the laces of her skirt.

“But you,” Skye said, back to speaking as loudly as possible. “You’re too much trouble.” As Jemma began to fumble with her blouse, Skye widened her eyes significantly at Fitz and whirled her finger in the air with one hand while she grabbed the discarded skirt with her other one. 

“Uh...” Fitz stammered, abruptly realizing that Jemma was _undressing_ and he should probably, absolutely-definitely not be looking while she did so. Whipping his head around, he tried to come up with any kind of convincing addition to Skye’s surprise charade. “Um, I – please, we’re just trying to get home....”

Handing Jemma what looked like a potato sack, Skye rolled her eyes at Fitz’s rather pathetic plea. “You know, I don’t like the way you look at her. We pirates tend to be the jealous types,” she intoned, waiting dutifully for the guffaws from above to quiet slightly. “And I like my men to be begging to have me.” More laughter and whoops sounded from above, and she used that as cover to stride to a corner of the room and press one hand firmly against the wall, triggering the opening of a hidden door. “Take this – hurry, and be quiet. We’ll meet you on the other side.”  

Briefly ignoring her to rifle through her pockets, Jemma grabbed a crumpled letter and the flower she’d kept in her pocket as a talisman ever since leaving home. After securing her trinkets, she gave one panicked glance back at Fitz. “How do I know you’re not going to just kill him as soon as I’m gone?” 

“I guess you don’t,” Skye shot back, pushing Jemma through the door and twisting the lock shut. Just in time for the pirates to quiet again, she ran back to continue stuffing hay into additional potato sacks and securing Jemma’s damp, bedraggled clothes over them. “I can’t have you here,” she shouted, clearly pretending to be talking to Jemma, “distracting him.” With a few last tugs on the rope holding her Frankensteinian hay creation together, Skye dragged it over to the window and dangled it along the edge. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights!” Before she heaved the thing out the window, she gave Fitz another significant nod, and as the dummy went sailing into the bright blue beyond he did his best to scream Jemma’s name in a way that was as convincingly horrified as possible. (This was harder than it sounded, because he was still wholly confused about how the Captain’s protégé thought she was going to get away with this level of deception for long.)

Having finished her task, Skye sped over to unlock Fitz’s handcuffs, circling around to help him remove the chains and then reattach the cuffs in front of him. “Okay,” she whispered, “now act scared.” 

“Not gonna be a problem,” he muttered back as she swung the brig’s door open and yanked up him up onto the open deck.

Skye had an added swagger to her stride once they appeared in front of the other pirates, grabbing Fitz’s hands and holding them up over her head. “Got me a live one, boys!” Her comrades hollered their support as she dragged him across the ship, the periodic lewd comment slicing through the noise and making Fitz’s ears burn. “Captain’s letting me borrow his quarters for a while – you know what’ll happen if you disturb us.” A low murmur of concern buzzed through the crowd. “You’ll get a damn fine show!” Again, they burst into enthusiastic whoops, although Fitz noticed that the two pirates from the night before – Hunter and Peterson – were just standing off to the side and watching the proceedings with faintly amused disinterest. If the Captain was nearby, Fitz didn’t see him.

As he stumbled behind his theoretical savior, he got more and more worried about Jemma – who knew where the pirate had really sent her, after all, and he was frustrated that they hadn’t had time to talk the plan through first. So when he got close enough to her that he could speak without being heard, he gave her a sharp warning. “If you’ve hurt her, I’m gonna make sure you suffer for what you’ve done.”

Skye gave him an approving eyebrow raise, and then grinned lewdly at the crowd of pirates over his shoulder. “Hear that? I’m gonna get punished for being a bad, bad girl.”

The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers as she shoved Fitz through the open door at which they’d just arrived, slapped his ass, and then pulled the door shut with a bang. Skye groaned and slid down the wall to land unceremoniously on the floor. “Holy hell that was exhausting.” As he stared at her with his mouth open, she looked up with a wide smile. “It _totally_ worked though – you make a grade-A pretend love slave.”

Letting out an awkward cough, Fitz tried to raise his hands to his hips, but was stymied by the cuffs. Skye saw this and scrambled back to her feet, tugging a keyring out of her pocket. “It had to be ‘pretend _love slave_ ,’” Fitz muttered indignantly as she unlocked him, “couldn’t just be ‘pretend boyfriend’ or something.”

The Captain’s quarters were large, spanning the whole width of the boat, and seemed to split off into multiple bedrooms. Currently, they were standing by the entrance of a wood-paneled common room, furnishings sleek and tasteful with a clear penchant for red-white-and-blue decorative touches. A wide desk took up one corner, its surface piled high with papers that seemed rather at odds with the image of a fearsome pirate Captain.

“But you’d make such a pretty love slave,” she teased, turning to dump the cuffs on a side table.

“I am _not_ pretty!” His voice cracked, and he could feel his ears turning red out of both embarrassment and anger. 

“Aww,” Skye cooed, dropping onto a particularly plush sofa. “Yeah, you _totally_ are.” 

With a start, Fitz realized that they’d been speaking at a normal volume, and he snapped his gaze to the wall between them and the rest of the crew. Waving a finger between the two of them and then the door, he lowered his voice. “Can they...?”

“Oh yeah, nope.” She stretched her legs out and slid her hands behind her head. “May – that’s Coulson’s first mate – is keeping watch, and she could keep those goons away with her eyes closed and all four limbs tied. We’re good in here.”

“Then would you please explain what the _bloody hell_ is going on?!”

Skye gave him a wry grin. “Duh – I just saved your life.”

Before she could continue, a panel along the ship’s outer wall squeaked open and out stumbled a very dusty, and now mostly-naked, Jemma. Noticing the others’ open-mouthed stares, she wrapped her arms self-consciously around her still-damp brassiere. “The damn sack got caught,” she said defensively. “Took me ages to try to get it unstuck, and eventually I gave up. It would’ve been nice to have a candle or lantern so I could actually see where I was walking, you know.”

Suppressing a laugh, Skye got up and strode towards a nearby wardrobe. “Sorry about that.”

As Jemma stood there, shivering slightly in the cool air, she glanced over to where Fitz was standing in the middle of the room. His eyes were slowly tracking over her bare skin, down her legs and then up over her chest, and she felt something tingle in the pit of her stomach. No one had ever looked at her that way before – not even Trip, her soon-to-be fiancé. When Fitz's eyes reached her face, he jumped and snapped his gaze away, as if he hadn’t even been aware of what he’d been doing. An unexpected inner voice urged Jemma to try to elicit that reaction from him again, and then she frowned, unsure about which reaction she wanted him to repeat – the longing stare, or the ensuing awkward attempt to hide it. _Both_ , came the response, and she, too, made herself look quickly away, cheeks heating up.

Skye returned with a cotton robe, eyes flickering between the two of them as Jemma grabbed it and swung it around herself. “Okaaaaaay,” she said, leaning back against the couch and raising an eyebrow. “You two are totally not married. Which makes you....” 

They shared a panicked look, and Fitz blurted out: “Siblings!”

The sound she let out was something between an undignified snort and a chuckle. “Wow, okay, so I don’t want to make this awkward or anything, but judging by the look you just gave her –” she nodded in Fitz’s direction, “if you’re brother and sister you’ve got one messed up family. Let’s try that again.”

Unable to think of another answer that didn’t involve him being an immortal being whose heart gave the consumer eternal life, Fitz stalled. “We’re –”

“Friends,” Jemma interrupted, giving Fitz a small smile. “We got lost on our way back to Wall – that’s where we live – and somehow found ourselves on the wrong side of an evil witch.” 

“And then bam,” Fitz jumped eagerly in, “we were up in the clouds.” 

“No idea how to get down –”

“And scared out of our minds.”

Jemma couldn’t help but grin over at Fitz, who beamed right back, both of them feeling more than pleased at the novelty of being so in sync with another person. Although no one in the room noticed, Fitz’s skin began to emit a light glow, as if the sun behind his skin was peeking through the clouds. For her part, Skye just stared, dumb-founded, back-and-forth between the two of them. 

“Do you two always talk like that?” 

Frowning, Jemma broke Fitz’s gaze. “Like what?”

“You know....” Skye waved a hand vaguely in front of herself. “Like you’re psychically linked, or something.”

“We were not – doing that,” Fitz protested, looking away from Jemma and feeling a blush return to his cheeks. The glow made an abrupt disappearance. “Anyway, you never explained why you’re helping us.”

“Shit, right, sorry!” Climbing up to sit on the back of the sofa, Skye leaned forward on her knees, waiting for Jemma to sit primly at the edge of a nearby armchair before she began. “That’s sort of Coulson’s thing, helping wayward travelers.”

Jemma crossed her arms. “The fearsome Captain Coulson likes to help wayward travelers...?”

Skye let out a small snort of amusement. “He acts fearsome, but he’s more or less a giant, one-armed teddy bear.” When the other two didn’t seem impressed by this explanation, she heaved a great sigh. “Look, not everything’s as it seems on the Bus, okay?”

“The Bus...?” Fitz started, but Skye cut him off.

“That’s the name of the ship.”

“Odd name,” Jemma muttered.

“Coulson needs the loyalty of the real pirates – they’re disgusting assholes, but they’re handy in a fight. He and May used a little bit of intimidation and deception to gain the respect he needs. Hunter and Mike are in on it, but that’s it – just us five. And,” she exhaled, blowing loose hair out of her eyes, “since I’m the newbie, I still need to earn my reputation.”

“So you’re using us to do that,” Jemma finished for her, giving Fitz an impressed eyebrow raise. He nodded back at her, working through the plausibility of that explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s how you get through to pirates – sex and violence. And they’re real skittish about accepting women into their ranks, which makes my life just _that_ much easier.”

Glancing down at her hands, Jemma let out a small sigh. “I know the feeling.” When she looked back towards Skye, she missed the serious, thoughtful expression Fitz had as he watched her.

“You’d think they’d be thrilled to have a pretty girl on board,” he said, almost to himself, and the two women stared at him. “I – I mean...." 

“I’ll take the compliment,” Skye chuckled, noting the slight frown that had crossed Jemma’s face. “But, yeah, no, that just makes it harder. My first day on board, someone called me an ‘upstart whore’ at least once an hour.”

Jemma made an indignant scoff. “Why didn’t the Captain just get rid of those pirates? Surely there must be other, more respectful reprobates available for hire.” Fitz shot Jemma an incredulous look, but she just shrugged, undeterred. “What? Just because they’re pirates doesn’t mean they _have_ to be rude.”

“Well, okay, Coulson did get rid of that guy. Can’t say I don’t occasionally reminisce about the screams Quinn made on the way down.” She flashed them a morbid smile, and Fitz was sharply reminded of the fact that she was still a pirate. “But it doesn’t matter – there’re always gonna be others like him, on our ship or other ones. I’m a teenage girl, and teenage girls can’t be good pirates.”

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job to me.” Fitz was half-reflecting on the way she’d dragged him along the deck and made him look like a complete fool, but the grateful smile that spread across Skye’s face made him glad he’d made the offhand remark.

“Yeah?” Her voice was a little too excited, and he grinned, giving her an earnest nod.

Ignoring the odd skip of jealousy in her stomach, Jemma couldn’t help but smile at Fitz, who had clearly meant the compliment and then was so pleased that she’d appreciated it. For a celestial being, he was rather adorable.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Skye said, ducking her head. “For choosing you to torment in public like that. For real, I’d be happy to pretend-bang either of you –” Fitz choked on his tongue, and Skye waited for him to catch his breath before continuing. “But I had to make a snap-decision about which one of you could pass for a relative of Coulson’s, and Jemma was it. You said you’re trying to get back to the wall, right?” They both nodded. “Cool, we’ll pass not too far from it in a few days, so you can hitch a ride with us until then. Once we’ve got a cover sorted out. That’s the plan now – while the rest of the crew thinks that we’re banging each others’ brains out –”

To Jemma’s amusement, Fitz dropped his face into his hands. “Can you please stop phrasing it like that?” 

“Yeah, Skye,” Jemma added, “he _is_ more than just a piece of ass.” Fitz shot her a glare and she just grinned charmingly back at him.

Rolling her eyes, and thinking briefly about how dealing with the clueless flirting between these two was going to drive her bonkers, Skye continued. “ _Anyway_ , we’ve only got a couple hours until we get to the next market to trade our lightning, and we need to use that time to make sure that the crew won’t recognize you. And then,” she said as she stood up, “you get to be my personal boy toy for a little longer.” Scowling at her, Fitz nodded his assent. “Gimme a sec, and I’ll go find you two some real clothes.” Pausing at the door to a nearby hallway, she turned halfway around. “Unless, y’know, either – or both – of you were actually interested in....” Skye made a circle with two forefingers and poked another finger back-and-forth through it in the universal gesture for sex. Both Jemma and Fitz just stared mutely at her, and she laughed awkwardly. “Or, not, just, you know, thought I’d check! Back in a jiff.” 

Once her footsteps disappeared down the hall, Fitz turned to Jemma. “Do you think we can trust her?”

Jemma nodded slowly, chewing her bottom lip in thought. “Nothing she’s said seems too implausible – obviously the Captain’s aware of the plan, since we’re in his quarters. And if my reintroduction as his daughter or niece works, then we’ll be able to stick together, which is good.” 

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed, “we don’t want to get separated.” 

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all. We’re clearly better together.” Jemma gave him a brief smile, which he returned brightly just as Skye traipsed back into the room. 

“ _Omigod_ ,” she groaned, clothes piled over both arms. “If you two spend the next three days staring at each other like that, I’m going to change my mind and throw you _both_ overboard.” Neither Fitz nor Jemma looked at each other for at least the next half an hour after that.


	4. Constellation

A little over two hours later, Fitz found himself crowded into a musty, old shop, watching on as Coulson bargained with a woman named Akela over a small container of lightning. The merchant was beautiful but intimidating, a silver eye-patch gleaming over the richness of her dark skin even in the dimly lit shop. Skye circled around Fitz for show, eyeing the other two pirates who had accompanied them off the ship and occasionally leaning over to whisper theoretically-crude suggestions into his ear. (The one thing that made this bearable was that, appearances aside, she was usually just apologizing again and reminding him to look cowed. Considering the approving glowers of the other crew members, the latter was not a difficult request.)

Most of their business now complete, across the store from the others Akela stepped closer to Coulson and lowered her voice. “I’ve heard tell that a fallen star walks these parts.” He just raised an eyebrow and she licked her lips nervously. “You must know the stories of what magic can do with a fallen star. If you find it, you could retire – never work again a day in your life. Or keep someone from the brink of death. You heard anything about that?”

Coulson set his mouth in a thin line, taking a long, hard look over at where Skye was preening over Fitz. “No,” he said slowly. “I haven’t. But I’ll definitely keep an eye out – ah, sorry.” Akela grimaced, and he very purposefully looked anywhere else other than her patch. “Retiring sounds appealing – I’ve heard Tahiti’s nice.” 

“It’s overrated,” she muttered, turning as the store’s door jangled the welcome bell. A short, lithe woman with dark curls sashayed in between the rickety shelving towards them, a smile dancing over her lips, and Coulson felt his stomach twist. 

“Speaking of witches,” he said under his breath, and the new woman turned her unnervingly steady gaze upon him.

“What were you saying about me?” Raina tilted her head, glancing between the merchant and the Captain.

“Oh, nothing,” Coulson evaded, leaning his one extant hand on the hilt of his sword. “Just how nice it is to see you after all this time, Raina. You’re looking radiant as ever – nice flowers.”

She smoothed one hand over her daisy-patterned dress and raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite the flatterer, Captain.”

“Can’t help myself, apparently.” In return, his gaze was congenial but without any true feeling behind it, and he turned toward his crew. “Until next time, Akela.”

“Of course, Captain,” she answered, eying her new client with suspicion.

As they finally returned to the ship, Fitz tripped on a loose board at the dock, needing Skye to help right himself. He’d become distracted, yet again, by the construction of the ship on which they were traveling, having been unable to see how it flew until this excursion. Since he’d spent most of his time observing England itself and very little time on Shieldhold, he’d never managed to catch a glimpse of a lightning pirate’s ship before. Although the body of the ship was the same as those that sailed the seas, this one was supported by a large zeppelin-esque balloon, which was attached to the wooden undercarriage by a complex series of ropes and riggings. Folded along the rear of the ship was an odd, metal netting, and although Fitz had his suspicions about its use he would have to wait until they encountered another thunderstorm to confirm his hypothesis. 

The rest of the crew had awaited their return by the docks, and when everyone strode up the galley to the deck there arose general cries of alarm and the sounds of swords being drawn. Coulson pushed through the crowd, impatiently brandishing his hook, with Fitz and Skye following close behind. The cause of such unrest was a large trunk and a brown sack plopped in the middle of the ship, on which sat a stunning, wind-swept female buccaneer.

“Stand down,” Coulson called, turning back towards the ship’s infiltrator with a convincingly affectionate smile. “This is my niece – a fearsome pirate in her own right. Jemma Simmons!” 

Said fearsome pirate sat up from where she’d been reclining so appealingly on her luggage, tripped a little on the ship’s netting, and then hopped over to give the Captain a hug. “Uncle,” Jemma said warmly, her new, shoulder-length haircut feathering in the breeze.

Fitz had seen the outfit on her before they’d left, of course, but something unfamiliar (and disconcertingly human) stirred deep in his belly at the sight of her perched like that on the ship. The long, creamy coat tucked in at her waist, and the amber vest she’d borrowed from Skye only helped to accentuate her curves, all of which were visible now that she was no long wearing her bulky, everyday skirt. His eyes trailed up from her feet to her lips, although he jumped slightly when he realized that she was staring right back at him. 

As the rest of the pirates crowded onto the ship around them, waiting to hear Coulson’s explanation of his niece’s sudden appearance, Jemma couldn’t stop the grin she sported as she watched Fitz’s mouth fall open at the sight of her in her new pirate gear. He must not have gotten a proper look before leaving, or maybe the sunlight simply highlighted her best features, but there was no mistaking the surprise in his bright blue eyes as he stared at her. For her part, she was thrilled that he was no longer wearing that frumpy cotton thing that he’d arrived on Earth in; it had been shapeless and did his features no favors, and Jemma always did have a rather discerning taste for clothes. Now his trousers were properly fitted to his waist – only needing a little adjustment with a belt – and his somewhat loose, cobalt shirt served to highlight his eyes. Somehow, Skye had managed to speed up the growth of a beard on him and then trimmed it down to an appealing layer of stubble, as well as tame some of his unrulier curls. The sun glinted off the chain he still wore around his neck, although she hadn’t yet had a chance to ask why he still wore that ugly, crystal bauble. Watching him shuffle on deck behind Coulson, a blush on his cheeks, Jemma felt an odd fluttering sensation in her stomach. 

With everyone now gathered on the ship, Coulson continued his little speech. “Jemma will be traveling with us until we near the cliffs that lead to the village of Wall – a good opportunity for her to get some training from her favorite uncle.” He flashed her a grin and she gave him a rueful shake of her head, earning a boisterous laugh from the crew. “In the meantime, Skye’s broken in your welcome present.”

All eyes turned to Fitz, who Skye shoved unceremoniously forward and almost straight into Jemma. “He’s all yours, Mistress Jemma – but he might be a little worn out tonight.” Predictably, the crew hollered its approval behind her. May, who was standing nearby, gave the young pirate a minute roll of her eyes.

Gathering himself before he fell over, Fitz nodded politely at Jemma, trying very hard to pretend that they’d never met before. Silence fell upon the deck, and she turned to see Skye give her a significant and expectant look.

“Oh!” Jemma’s eyes widened and she tried very quickly to think of something to do that would be appropriately pirate-y, quickly settling on slapping Fitz’s ass. He made an indignant squawk, although it was barely audible over the crew’s guffaws, and she made a mental note to apologize to him later. (But only for show, because his bum really was a sight to behold in those new trousers. She winced a little internally at the shameless ogling, but not enough to stop.)

A loud crackle diverted everyone’s attention, and as everyone’s heads turned Skye sprinted over to the pile of lightning canisters resting along the ship’s side. Grabbing the malfunctioning canister, she had to let out a small burst of lightning into the air before toggling a complicated series of knobs. With a loud hiss, the canister re-sealed properly, and a sigh of relief swept over the crew.

“Alright then, move along, you mangy rascals,” Coulson snapped at the pirates. “We’ve got a ship to sail!” The crew leapt into action around them as the Captain strode over to Skye, who was examining the contraption with dismay. “I thought you –”

“I fixed it yesterday,” she hissed in annoyance, turning it upside down to squint at the underside. “I’m not an engineer, Coulson, I’m better with cryptography and shit. We really need to find someone who –”

“Um...” Fitz started, clearing his throat as Jemma, Skye, and the Captain all turned to him. “Could I... could I take a look at it?” He gave Jemma a sideways glance. “I’m... an engineer... -ing apprentice, and, um, I’m... uh, pretty good with my hands...?”

She tried not to laugh at the expression he wore as he tried to come up with a good lie, and then nodded in assent. “That’s right, he is.”

Shrugging, Skye handed over the canister. “Knock yourself out. If you electrocute yourself, it’s not my fault.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, peering thoughtfully at the contraption. After a moment, he glanced around and then grabbed a dagger off a nearby pirate’s belt, ignoring the ensuing annoyed shout. Coulson raised one hand to soothe the pirate, who went muttering off to the other side of the ship. With a few pointed twists of the dagger in the container’s screws and some loud banging to reshape the switches and toggles, Fitz handed the cylinder back to the Captain. “Should be proper now.”

Giving May a skeptical look, Coulson pointed the canister over the cliff to which they were tethered and used his hook to flip the switch that let a strong beam of lightning zap into thin air.

The ricochet of resealing the cylinder forced him back a few steps, and Skye let out a low whistle. “Damn, love slave, you’ve got some skill.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Fitz muttered, crossing his arms, although it was hard to feel too grumpy when Jemma was staring at him with the wide-eyed, admiring smile she now wore.

“Can you do this for all of them?” Both Fitz and Jemma turned, jaws dropped open, to see that Coulson’s intimidating first mate was, in fact, talking to Fitz. May watched impassively as he swallowed and nodded. “Good.” 

“I’ll help,” Jemma added, falling into step with Fitz as he strode over to the pile of lightning containers. Once they were out of earshot of the others, she leaned into him. “How did you know what to do? Really?”

He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I used to like watching human engineers and inventors. Picked up a few things.”

“Well, that was absolutely brilliant, Fitz,” she said, sitting close enough to him on his chosen wooden crate that their legs were pressed flush against each other. “Can you tell me what to do?” She pulled a small dagger from her boot and held it up, and he grinned shyly back at her.

“Uh, yeah. I can do that.” As he leaned over to grab one of the cylinders, Jemma would’ve sworn that she saw his skin give off a faint glow. But then the ship turned out of the dock and into the sky, and the sunlight obscured out anything unusual about his appearance. 

A few feet away, Skye looked on as her two new shipmates leaned unnecessarily close together to do their work. Hunter sidled over, chewing on a toothpick as he followed her gaze. “So, how long d’you think until they’re actually shagging?”

She gave it a good, few seconds of thought. “Three days, tops.”

“I bet two, before they leave the ship.” Hunter stuck out his hand, one eyebrow raised in challenge. 

Giving him a firm shake back, Skye chuckled as she saw a blush spread over Fitz’s face when Jemma rested her hand on his thigh. “You’re _so_ on.” 

And so the star and the outcast’s brief stint as lightning pirates began as successfully as could be hoped. As a group, the crew took heartily to Jemma and Fitz’s presence on the ship, in particular her affinity for the culinary arts. She taught them the best ways to preserve food on long journeys, and once she even took to the galley herself, whipping up a sandwich so delicious that Fitz effectively risked death by sneaking an extra one off the table. Even the medical lessons she’d had Trip give her came in handy, and she was able to heal more than one clumsy pirate’s injuries. To her surprise, May offered to give her sword-fighting lessons, and although Jemma felt inordinately clumsy with a blade at least she learned how to wield one.

Feeling useful for the first time in his incredibly long life, Fitz continued to improve upon the designs of the lightning capturers, and any other skyfaring gadgets with which they presented him. His skill and ingenuity impressed Coulson to the extent that he allowed Fitz access to the large machine below-decks that contained lightning when it was captured during thunderstorms, and he even got his wish to see the purpose of those nets their first night on board. In fact, they were a complex network of lightning rods that the pirates unwound upon entering a storm, their appearance creating the impression of two odd, spidery wings unfurling out from the ship. As they viewed the storm from the deck, Jemma had to pull Fitz back when he almost leaned too far over the edge of the ship’s balcony to see the lightning strike. He just laughed, waving off her concern and far too busy enthusiastically explaining how it all worked. A large clap of thunder sounded overhead, startling her such that she threw her arms around his waist and almost knocked him right back over the balcony. They both burst into giggles at her foolishness, continuing to cling to each other in the pouring rain, and Fitz’s skin shone brightly from underneath his soaked rain slicker.

The night before they were scheduled to arrive at the cliffs nearest to the Wall (which weren’t really very near at all, and would require them at least a day’s further journey on foot), Skye insisted on teaching Jemma how to dance. Using Hunter as her stand-in, Skye watched critically as the two of them danced a clumsy waltz, everyone laughing and happy after another good meal and many bottles of cheap wine. Fitz watched from the sidelines, grinning as Jemma mouthed “ _help me!_ ” at him over Hunter’s shoulder.

Ever since seeing Jemma in the simple (and yet somehow elegant) violet dress she’d borrowed from Skye, Fitz had been shining brightly all evening, never having felt a greater sense of peace than he did right now. With the gramophone playing nearby, he didn’t hear Coulson sidle up next to him, although he managed a simple nod of greeting instead of jumping into the air.

“I know what you are, Fitz.”

The glow abruptly disappeared from his skin, and he turned, wide-eyed, to the Captain, who continued to calmly watch the dancers. “W-what?”

“You’ve been glowing more brightly every day.” Coulson glanced over at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, and no one on this ship will harm you.”

The star exhaled, shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank–”

“But there are plenty others who will. Take care when you’re on your own.” Coulson watched Fitz nod and briefly studied the younger-looking man. “You know _why_ you’ve been glowing, don’t you?”

Rolling his eyes, Fitz checked quickly to make sure no other pirates were within earshot. “Because I’m a _star_ – what do we do best?”

During a pause in the music, Jemma came bounding across the deck to grab onto Fitz’s hands. “Come on, it’s your turn,” she said with a laugh, tugging him with her back onto the pseudo-dance floor. Skye had pulled a reluctant Peterson along with her while Hunter changed the record, and so Jemma wrapped her arms around Fitz’s shoulders as they drew even. “You’re my hero,” she muttered into his ear, pressing their cheeks together as goosebumps shivered down his neck from the warmth of her breath. “For rescuing me from Hunter.”

“But you seemed so compatible,” he teased as they circled the floor in a clumsy waltz, and she snorted softly into his shirt.

“He kept stepping on my toes!” When Fitz let out something that rather resembled a cackle, she swatted his shoulder. “It’s not funny, we’ve got to walk for miles tomorrow! You might have to carry me now, actually, they _really_ hurt –”

“Oh, that’s definitely doable,” he said with a grin, and she shrieked as he lifted her up off her feet. With some enthusiastic squirming, she was able to wriggle out of his grasp and dart away – but he wasn’t giving in so easily. Both of them laughed breathlessly as Fitz chased Jemma in circles around the ship’s main mast, his skin glowing brighter by the second. Eventually, she let him catch her, giggling madly and reveling in the warmth of his hands as they pressed against her through the thin dress.

Seeing the brightening of the star’s glow the longer he laughed with the girl, Coulson sighed and shook his head. One day, Fitz’s feelings were going to get him in trouble.

Not long after breakfast the next day, the skyship pulled up alongside the cliffs nearest to the wall, and everyone prepared to say their farewells. The weather was exquisite, barely a breeze to be had, whitecaps drifting on the waters below and puffy clouds floating above. To no one’s surprise, when they were just about to disembark Skye pulled both Fitz and Jemma in for an affectionate hug. Despite the bravado she faked for the benefit of the crew, they’d both become rather fond of her, and she of them.

“You’re gonna be a great pirate, Skye,” Fitz said as the three of them separated, and Jemma shook her head, adjusting the snowdrop she’d pinned to the collar of her white coat.

“No – you already _are_.”

Skye gave them both a blindingly wide smile. “I’m gonna miss you weirdos. Be careful, okay? Take care of each other.” A discontented rumble echoed up from the crewmembers scattered around the deck. “I mean, uhhh....” Skye cleared her throat. “Mind you don’t wear him out, Mistress Jemma!”

The crew gave a satisfied cheer, and Jemma rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she replied drily, “he’s ever so delicate.” Fitz poked her in the side and she grinned, stepping over to the Captain to collect their parting gift.

Having already said all the goodbyes he felt necessary, Fitz strode down to the bottom of the gangplank and turned to watch them as he waited. Coulson handed her a small leather-bound copper cylinder with a carrying-strap, and then leaned down to whisper in her ear. Shooting him a bemused frown, Jemma nodded, swung the cylinder over the shoulder of her white coat, and proceeded down the plank after Fitz. The bulbous zeppelin attached to the ship shimmered in the sunlight, shifting slowly as May steered it away from the cliff. They waited together on the moss-covered ground, waving enthusiastically until the ship was almost out of sight.

“What’d he say to you?”

Jemma turned her head away from him, leading their way to the road. “What?”

“Captain Coulson,” Fitz said, hopping over a gathering of stray rocks in the grass. “When he handed you the cylinder, he whispered something in your ear.”

“Oh,” Jemma scoffed, wrinkling her nose as they reached the gravel. “No, that – that was nothing. He just – you know, said to use the lightning to barter for a Babylon candle.” Fitz let her stride ahead of him a little, not completely convinced but also not concerned enough to push for a different answer.

Their journey was slow and steady, but at least the road itself was free of impediments and mostly free of travelers. The two friends spoke of many things, from Jemma’s deepest desire to cure her father of at least a few ills, to Fitz’s ideas for a weapon that would allow the user to simply stun their target, to Jemma’s various untested hypotheses about plant-derived toxins. Both of them were perfectly content to continue traveling and talking – until they passed a sign that declared the distance to Wall, and Fitz let out a frustrated sigh.

“This is taking forever – Trip’s going to be waiting to propose to you tomorrow, and we’re _never_ gonna get there in time at this rate.”

A sliver of discontent wormed its way into Jemma’s stomach, and the cheer she’d felt just seconds ago faltered. To her shame, she’d almost completely forgotten that she had a deadline by which she was supposed to return home other than the Academy’s application date, which just made her feel nervous and guilty. “Right, well, we can’t go much faster than this without transport. We’re making good time.” 

Fitz peered off across the field adjacent to the path. “Maybe we could take a shortcut....”

“Oh, what,” she said with a small scoff, “and use the North star to....” Jemma trailed off, frowning up in the direction that the familiar star should be at this time of day. “But... we should be able to see it now, even during the day... that’s so _weird_.”

Brushing past her with an exaggerated eye-roll, Fitz continued along the edge of the road. “That’s funny. Hilarious. My sides are splitting.”

“Why was that....” Jemma’s eyes widened as she trailed off, and she skipped forward so that they were even-paced. “That was _you_?! Really?!” He gave her a quick shrug of acknowledgement, and she grinned up at him. “So much for you not glowing during the day.”

Giving her a fond shove, and letting her push back against his arm in retaliation, Fitz let out an emphatic _tsk_. “I glow when I sleep, too, y’know.”

“Ever the bright one, you are,” she teased again, and he couldn’t help the way the light beneath his skin shone a little more strongly.

As they strode by a thick patch of violet heather not much later, the sound of carriage wheels faded into the countryside silence and Jemma gave Fitz a sharp shove, sending him stumbling backwards into the roadside bushes.

“What the hell!” He let out a small “ _oof_ ” as she landed on top of him. “Are you _trying_ to break my leg again?”

“Shhhh!” She pressed one finger to his lips, shifting around so that she was partially supporting herself over him on her knees. “There’s someone coming, and I don’t trust anybody around you.”

The glow in Fitz’s skin brightened ever-so-slightly at her words, and he watched her tilt her head to listen for the approaching carriage. Her hair was mussed from the fall, eyes shining in the dappled sunlight through the bush’s branches, and he tried very hard not to think about how much he just enjoyed looking at her. What also didn’t help was that he could feel all of her soft curves pressed against him like this (in addition to a few sharp pokes from buckles, buttons, and the sword she now wore at her hip) and those altogether too-human instincts reared their heads again. For whatever reason, that thought reminded him of the fact that she _was_ human; Jemma was as mortal as everyone else down here, and one day she would die. That thought was absolutely unacceptable to Fitz, who – though he had truly met her only days before – couldn’t imagine the world turning without her here.

“Aren’t you tempted?” he whispered, and she turned her head to stare down at him.

“What?”

Her voice sounded impossibly breathless to her own ears, and Jemma prayed that her flush would stay in check. Somehow, it seemed that Fitz had given thought to the untoward images that had been flashing through her brain from the second that she’d landed on top of him. Damn her clumsiness. But there wasn’t enough room in here for her to shift around, and she was terrified of drawing the attention of whoever was about to traverse this road. So instead, she was stuck straddling Fitz, trying very hard not to imagine how different this would be right now if they didn’t have any clothes on. Jemma had _never_ thought about anyone this way before in her life, so underneath her natural awkwardness there was also a healthy dose of surprise. The star, or perhaps just the position, had triggered something latent inside of her, and somehow he had sensed this instantly. 

“Immortality.” Jemma exhaled into a frown, relieved that he hadn’t actually managed to read her thoughts but still confused about his question. “Say it wasn’t me,” he continued softly, blue eyes studying her face and the glow in his skin holding steady. “Wasn’t my heart. If it was just a star you didn’t know.”

Branches shifted above them in the wind, and she tried to parse out his expression. Finally, she let a sad little smile spread across her face. “Do you really think I could kill someone? For something like that?” Jemma chuckled, not giving him a chance to answer as she broke their gaze to stare over his head. “Even say that I could – everlasting life. I don’t know, I think it might be rather lonely.” As her gaze was turned away, she didn’t notice that Fitz’s glow dimmed at her words, and his eyes grew distant. “Unless you had someone to share it with, maybe,” she added, turning back to him. “Someone you loved.” Birds twittered above them and she tilted her head, listening. “Come on, I think the carriage is gone.” 

Untangling themselves from the brush was something of a difficult process, but they managed to both avoid ripping their new clothes, with Jemma pulling Fitz up and out after her. She noticed that it took a couple hours after that for his shine to fully return, and wondered what had made him think to ask her those questions in the first place.

“You know,” she started, eyeing him as he fiddled idly with a branch, “you really do emit this sort of... glow. Sometimes.”

Fitz gave her a droll look. “May I remind you that I’m a star? That’s sort of our thing, y’know –” At that moment they rounded a small hill into which the road had been cut, revealing that a yellow caravan was parked only a few meters away from them. Jemma grabbed onto Fitz’s arm to pull him back, but he ignored her efforts. “Wait!” He squinted at the woman who had just stepped out of the caravan holding a shawl, suddenly remembering why he recognized those dark curls and wide, intense eyes. “She’s a friend of the Captain!”

Jemma peered around his shoulder, something in the pit of her stomach urging her to find another way around. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I saw them talking at the merchant’s store. Maybe if she’s going in the right direction she can give us a lift to Wall – get you to back to Trip and Gonzalez that much faster!” His enthusiasm was infectious, the grin on his face melting her resolve far faster than his words.

“Okay,” she conceded at last, “but at least let me do the talking. The less attention we draw to you, the better.” 

“You just think I don’t know how to be charming enough to ask for a favor,” he grumbled, but he looked pleased to have won the argument nonetheless. 

“Well, yes,” she teased, “there’s that, too.” Jemma strode out of hiding first, giving a small wave to their new acquaintance as she approached. “Excuse me – hello! I’m so sorry to bother you, my name is Jemma –”

As soon as Raina laid eyes on Jemma, however, she gasped, eyes glued to the white coat. “That’s my flower!” Behind her, a blue jay on a silver chain hopped frantically about on the roof of the caravan, flapping her wings in agitation.

Frowning, Jemma glanced back at Fitz. “I’m sorry –?”

“I’ve been looking for that for twenty years! Give it to me!” She reached out as if she was going to strike Jemma, who backed rapidly away and unsheathed her sword.

“Hey,” Fitz snapped, “back off! How could you even know that it’s yours?” Raina ignored him, intense gaze flitting between the snowdrop and the blade.

“Look,” Jemma said as soothingly as possible, raising her other hand in a conciliatory gesture. “This was a present from my mother, but since we’re looking for something in return maybe we can make a deal. This flower for passage to the village of Wall?” 

A smile stretched across the other woman’s face at that and she straightened from her aggressive stance. “Passage to the wall? That sounds like a fair deal. I’m headed there anyway. Now,” she said, extending her hand, “the flower?” 

After slipping her sword back into its sheath, Jemma plucked the snowdrop from her coat, ignoring Fitz’s muttered misgivings. Just before she dropped the flower into Raina’s hand, however, she pulled back with a frown. “ _Safe_ passage?”

Something sparkled in Raina’s dark eyes, and she raised one hand in a gesture of promise. “I swear on my life that you will arrive at the wall in the exact same condition that you’re in now.” Although she was still wary, that seemed to be as good of a promise that they were likely to get, so Jemma reached out and plopped the snowdrop into her open hand. Raina let out a peal of laughter. “Do you have _any_ idea what kind of thing it was that you had?”

Fitz curled his fingers into Jemma’s sleeve and pulled, not liking the look of this woman one bit, but she just batted him off, nose wrinkling at the other woman’s question. “I don’t know, a lucky charm of sorts –” 

“Oh, yes, lucky indeed. Its charm was protection – and had you kept it, it would’ve prevented me from doing this.” Raina stretched her hand out towards Jemma, releasing half a dozen green, shimmering tendrils of magic that encircled her. With a small pop, Jemma disappeared and in her place upon the ground stood a pygmy monkey – a baby marmoset, to be exact. 

“No!” Fitz shouted, unable to reach for the creature before Raina had swept it into her arms. “What did you do?!” He charged at the witch, only to bounce off an invisible bubble that surrounded her. Stunned, Fitz shook his head and scrambled back up, only for his attempts to attack Raina to glance off whatever invisible thing surrounded her.

Scratching the monkey behind its miniature ears, the witch laughed to herself and then pinned the ill-begotten flower onto her patterned dress. “What an adorable little primate you are,” she cooed, although the monkey attempted to squirm out of her arms. “I’ll keep my word, though. You won’t be harmed.” She climbed into the caravan without giving the incensed star a single glance – for Raina, of course, could not see, touch, smell, or hear him.

Grabbing the lightning cylinder where Jemma had dropped it, Fitz clambered into the caravan behind the witch, watching thoughtfully as she closed the monkey into a cage. “Alright, so does this mean that you can’t see or hear me?” He studied her movements for any sign of deception, but she showed none, instead turning to hunt for something along one of the shelves. “Well, then,” he said, voice growing stronger as he realized that he was effectively invisible, “I’d like to tell you that your flowers smell terrible, and – and your eyes are too big. And I swear, if I don’t get my Jemma back exactly as she was, I’ll spend the rest of eternity as your personal poltergeist!” 

As the words came out of his mouth, he realized that he meant eternity, too – he’d give up the search for a Babylon candle if it meant that he could stay here to make this woman suffer for hurting Jemma. His vitriol notwithstanding, Raina heard none of this, finally locating the key for which she had been searching and locking the monkey into her cage.

“There. Good monkey.” Smirking, the witch slid unknowingly past Fitz and out of the caravan, latching the door behind her. The blue jay flitted inside just before the door shut, landing on a nearby shelf and tilting her head to better see the newcomers.

As the caravan jolted into motion, Fitz grabbed onto a shelf and sighed in frustration. Not being able to do anything to help Jemma until the caravan stopped at its next destination would drive him up the wall, but as he had no choice he simply plopped himself down on a stool next to the table that held the cage.

“Jemma?” At the sound of his voice, the monkey gave a little hop towards him and stuck one arm through the bars. He recognized the type of monkey instantly; they’d always been his favorite animal, and [baby marmosets](http://resources0.news.com.au/images/2012/02/07/1226264/203572-abandoned-marmoset.jpg) were particularly fetching little beasts, with lovely striped tails and wide, dark eyes. Letting the creature take hold of his forefinger, Fitz inhaled shakily. “Can you hear me?” The monkey let out a forlorn little chatter and dropped his finger, continuing to reach through the bars. Fitz frowned, twisting around, and then barked out a laugh at the sight of a bushel of bananas on the shelf behind him.

“Right then,” he said, peeling a banana and breaking off a piece to hand over. “You’re just hungry. I take it that you can’t understand me in monkey form, then.” He gave her a moment to respond, but she just continued to stuff the biggest pieces of banana into her miniature mouth that she could manage. The caravan rocked gently from side-to-side, and Fitz exhaled, trying not to be too worried that the witch wouldn’t transform her back. “Y’know, I’ve always been rather fascinated by monkeys. Used to wonder what it’d be like to see one in person. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

He watched her carefully lick the banana residue off of each of her tiny fingers and chuckled at how Jemma was fastidious even in monkey form. Then she reached her hand towards him through the bars again and he shook his head, digging his fingers into the fruit’s soft flesh. “I’ve, ah, then I’ve got something to say, if you don’t mind,” he murmured, handing over another piece of banana. “Course you don’t, you’re a monkey.” Turning the banana around in his hands, he took a deep breath, trying to ease some of his nerves – knowing that she couldn’t understand him right now only helped so much. “What I told you before, about how I used to see you in that field sometimes and talk back? Well, ah... it wasn’t just sometimes. I mean, I was telling the truth, about never looking for your anywhere else, y’know. Didn’t seem right to follow someone around, even if you’d never know. But I, ah, used to sort of... wait for you to show up. I just liked hearing you talk, that’s all, and you seemed so alone,” he rambled, feeling horribly embarrassed even if she never would know. “And you were different from everyone else.”

Fitz paused, staring down at his hands. “Humans always look up at the stars, wondering what it’s like up there, speaking to us. But they always _ask_ for something – it’s always a wish for this or that, never just... just to be there. As if I have any power to grant their wishes, for God’s sake. But you didn’t care about that, not like everyone else. You just... talked. As if you had so much to say, and no one to listen.” The monkey uncurled one of her small hands to tap at the one he’d left nearest to the cage, and he twisted off another piece of banana. 

“Well, actually, I did go looking for you once. When you jumped into the frozen lake after your dad and almost drowned trying to save someone twice as big as you,” he chuckled. “Went looking when you didn’t come to the field for two weeks – got worried. But that was the only time – I always waited for you to go first. I just....” He exhaled, scratching at the edge of one eyebrow and staring out at the sunflower-yellow rear wall of the caravan. “I just always thought we’d get on. Never expected to ever actually _meet_ you – then you showed up in that bloody crater. Of all the... and then you kidnapped me to take me to your fiancé. Who you never _once_ mentioned in the field.” He couldn’t help the slight bitterness that worked its way into his voice at that, and glanced over at the monkey to see that she’d started grooming herself. “If you could speak right now, you’d remind me that it’s for the Academy, too.” The blue jay whistled above him, and he glanced up at her before turning back to Jemma’s cage.

“I don’t really think you love him, y’know. Or you think love’s very different than I do. I know a bit about love – not, um, from experience, obviously. But from watching how humans love each other. I know that love’s _not_ logical, it doesn’t make any sense half the time – sometimes it’s even unbearable, and uncontrollable, and,” he added with a laugh, “strangely easy to mistake for loathing.” Fitz dropped his gaze to his hands. “And for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

When he looked up again, the monkey was staring at him with rapt attention, and he rolled his eyes as he surrendered the last of the banana. “Ravenous little bugger, you are.” After wiping his hands on his trousers, he leaned forward on the rough table, watching the monkey rip off tiny pieces as she regarded him over the fruit.

“I didn’t really understand love until I met you,” he whispered. “I always saw other people being ‘in love’ but it just didn’t... click. And now it’s like....” Fitz trailed off, gesturing at his chest, unconsciously using his hands to mimic the feeling for which he had no words. “When I look at you, my heart feels fit to bursting, like this body can’t contain it. Like my heart doesn’t even belong to me anymore.” The monkey shifted closer to the bars, turning her tail around to groom the other side, and he exhaled into a half-smile. “If you asked me, Jemma – if you’d asked me back at the side of the road, I would’ve... I’d give it to you. I wouldn’t even want anything back. Just to know that you had it would be enough for me.”

Fitz let silence fill the caravan then, staring down at a his hands and trying not to worry about what would happen once she was transformed back into a human – and whether or not she would be.


	5. Shining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Thar be explicit sex in this here chapter. If that's not your thing, you can get away with just reading the first handful of paragraphs and skipping to the next chapter entirely.
> 
> Also: Do as I say and not as they do - always use a condom, kids.

Luckily for all parties, once the caravan pulled to the side of the road in the village by the wall, Raina did fulfill her promise. Giving her hand a desultory wave, the witch watched as the monkey grew rapidly back into human Jemma. Fitz leaned in quickly to steady her when she wobbled precariously on her feet and raised one hand to her forehead in confusion.

“What....”

“The wall’s one mile that way,” Raina said far too smugly, pointing through the market. “Though the walk might take you a bit longer than normal. Transformation leaves the brain kinda scrambled.” 

Jemma’s equilibrium gave out as Raina strode back around to the front of the caravan, and Fitz quickly wrapped one of her arms up around his shoulder. “Easy does it,” he said soothingly, watching the way her face twisted in pain and dizziness. “Let’s get you to the inn over there. Trip isn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, and you’ll feel better after you rest.” Even though she was technically a human again, all she was truly aware of for the first few minutes was that Fitz was beside her – and that somehow he managed to carry her up the inn’s stairs.

Once Jemma was fast asleep on the bed, Fitz sighed in relief, collapsing briefly against a nearby column. He didn’t even care that he was going to have to spend the night on the floor while she slept in the bed – he was just glad that she was a human again. (Even if she _had_ made for a rather adorable monkey. If they couldn’t find someplace that would trade for a Babylon candle and he was stuck on Earth, maybe he could get a monkey for a pet. There must be a way to get a miniature marmoset to Europe.) For the moment, though, Jemma’s recovery period could be any length of time, so he set about finding a way to amuse himself until she came to. Remembering how a bath had helped him relax the last time he’d been at an inn (at least, it had until the crazy witch had tried to cut out his heart), he decided to start with that. 

The town on the Shieldhold side of the wall seemed to have some remarkable advances for this day and age, because to Fitz’s joy the tub had heated, running water, and he was settled into his bath in barely the amount of time it had taken him to remove his clothes. Sighing, Fitz closed his eyes and sunk into the warm water, content to stay there until long after his fingers and toes got all wrinkled. Although he wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed, he was sure it hadn’t been especially long until his eyes snapped open at the sound of the bathroom door creaking on its hinges.

“Well, hello,” Jemma said, peering around the bathroom’s wooden folding partition with a smirk. “I think you’re in my bath.”

“Jemma!” His voice came out as little more than a squeak, and he curled over to make sure that she couldn’t see anything through the water. “What’re you doing? Close your eyes!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughed, raising her hands in submission and backing out into the main room again. Quickly setting the tub to drain, Fitz dried off as fast as possible, too eager to check on her to do much in the way of clothing other than wrap a towel around his waist. At seeing the steadiness to her stance and the smile on her face, his skin began to shine once again, relief that she seemed back to her normal self coursing through his veins.

“Are you alright? How’re you feeling?” As soon as he was through the bathroom door, he reached out to feel her forehead, but she just batted him away, a fond look on her face.

“I’m fine, Fitz. I just needed a quick nap.” The sight of his bare chest distracted her briefly, a few water droplets still clinging to his skin. Nibbling at her bottom lip, Jemma forced her eyes back to his, reminding herself that there had been a reason why she’d woken up so quickly. “Did you mean what you said in the caravan?”

The glow disappeared abruptly from Fitz’s skin and his instincts told him to flee from inevitable embarrassment. “What? But – you were a monkey! You – you wanted a banana,” he said, almost pleading for it to be true. Shrugging, Jemma just smiled up at him. “I asked if you could understand me!”

“What, and risk you being too embarrassed to keep saying such wonderful things? Not a chance.” She picked up one of his hands then, pressing it between her two own. “I had no idea... I thought you hated me that first night, for kidnapping you, for just... being me. I thought you were the most interesting person I’d ever met, like I could tell you anything, and it turns out that’s just because I have been for years. We’ve been friends almost my whole life, and I didn’t know....” Fitz swallowed as she met his gaze, honey-golden eyes studying him intently as she shifted slightly closer. “You asked me before what the Captain whispered to me, when we left the Bus. The truth is that he told me my true love was right in front of my eyes. And he was right.”

Jemma’s hands curved gently along his neck, just under his jaw, and drew his lips down to hers. Still in shock, Fitz didn’t even think to close his eyes at first, too distracted by the sight of her eyelashes fluttering shut against her cheeks – and then by the softness of her mouth against his. It only took a moment for him to wrap his hands up around her shoulders and let his eyelids slide shut, getting lost in the way they learned each other by touch. Her lips caressed his, pressing in over and over again, the tip of her tongue flicking out experimentally and causing a bolt of surprised heat to shoot through him. 

Her hands wandered away from his neck, down his chest and up the lean length of his back, the realization that he was almost naked while she was still fully clothed making her shiver in wanting. Jemma hadn’t even known until today that she would ever want anyone like this, not until she’d fallen on top of him and the image of them entwined together in the most intimate way possible had flashed into her head. It hadn’t left her since then – well, perhaps it had for a while when she was a monkey, but those few hours were still somewhat hazy – and she was thrumming with the possibilities that this hotel room afforded them. Fitz slowly angled her mouth open just enough to slide his tongue against hers and she practically melted against him, clinging to his shoulders and feeling the heat radiating off of him through her clothes.

Neither knew how long they stood there like that, both dizzy with the taste of each other and having the sense that something momentous was about to happen. Eventually, Jemma dropped down to drag in a shaky breath, fingers digging into his skin to keep herself balanced. When she opened her eyes, she grinned at the sight of the strong, steady glow that emanated from his skin now – but if she’d needed any further hint to how he was feeling, all she needed to do was meet his eyes. Fitz stared down at her with a faint smile, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what about that expression did it, but in that moment she knew he loved her. It was written plain as day on his face – or, plain as night, he would probably say.

If he hadn’t been so distracted by the pure happiness he felt at that moment, Fitz might have noticed sooner that Jemma’s hands had wandered down to rest just above where the towel hung off his hips. When he did realize it, his eyes widened and he couldn’t stop the small twitch of surprise he made, and then was further thrown off by the sudden realization that he was apparently visibly aroused. Luckily for him, Jemma hadn’t seemed to notice this yet, as she was too busy studying his face. He was distracted again by the way the candlelight shifted in her eyes, their normal golden color darkened by nighttime, or something else entirely.

“Would....” Her voice was barely a whisper, so low that she had to clear her throat and start again, a deep blush rising on her cheeks. “Would you make love to me? I mean, would you like to?” 

His breath caught in his chest and he had to fight not to cough, his brain beginning to spin in a few very specific and interesting directions. Although he’d watched humans _in flagrante delicto_ many times during his millennia in the sky, he’d never imagined actually doing it himself. In fact, as Fitz stared down at her, he realized that he wouldn’t ever be interested unless it was with Jemma.

“I – I would. If you do.” He sounded unbearably quiet and breathless to his own ears, and a distant part of him wondered if he should be more suave or take-charge in such a situation. But she just smiled up at him, eyes flickering over his face. 

“I do, very much.” Then she was kissing him again, and before he realized it she’d tugged the towel completely away, leaving him naked in her arms. The towel made a soft thump as it fell onto the wooden floor, and Jemma grinned at the soft, shocked noise Fitz made when he realized what she’d done. Deciding to give him a minute to adjust, she slid her hands up into his curls, nibbling at her bottom lip as she met his gaze. “Okay?”

He made a hoarse little sound and nodded, leaning down to kiss her again as he wound his arms around her waist. When he parted her lips with his, she released an involuntary whimper at the same time that she realized that he was hard already. Although she was completely inexperienced in practice, she’d managed to find a rather informative book in the Academy library a few years back (when she’d snuck in one night and only narrowly avoided getting caught) that had largely taught her what to anticipate. A buzz of excitement washed through her and she smoothed her hands slowly down his back to curve over his arse, pleased by the brief choking noise he made as his hips jerked forward. Apparently that movement resulted in something he liked, because he let out a brief moan into her mouth, and Jemma – ever one to explore and experiment – set about finding ways to make him do that again.

Fitz knew he was in over his head the second that he could feel her smile against his mouth, and he tried not to move too much as her fingers gripped his arse again before sliding around to his hips. A small part of him was afraid he’d scare her off, until he reminded himself that she’d been the one to initiate this in the first place. Her thumbs brushed teasingly over the seam of his thighs, and he stopped breathing entirely as one hand moved to circle the base of his cock. The groan he let out was low and hitched, his lips falling away from hers as his brows tightened at the pleasure of her touching him. Having watched teenage boys disappear into bedrooms and bathrooms at all times of the day for many hundreds of years, he’d never understood why they’d been bothered – until just now. Blood surged south as she made one slow stroke to the tip and back to the base, and he gasped at the heady, tingling feeling this sent through his whole body. 

But he was able to keep his wits about him just enough to remember what he’d gathered from so many years of observations: Men came faster than women, and once they did that was probably it for a long time. And the last thing Fitz wanted was for this to end when it had just begun, even if he did suspect that his star biology might prove to be somewhat different than that of actual humans. So, biting his lip sharply at the loss of feeling, he gently pulled her active hand away to entwine their fingers.

“I don’t... I don’t want to finish too quickly, Jemma.” He waited a moment for her eyes to light up in understanding, and then inhaled deeply before bringing up the idea he’d just had. “I’d like to try something, if you don’t mind.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Jemma pressed in closer. “Like what?”

“I... um, well, sometimes when I was in the sky, I would see... you know....” 

She laughed. “Stars really are dirty buggers, watching other people –” 

“It gets really boring up there otherwise! And that’s not the point.”

“What _is_ the point, then?” For some reason, Jemma chose that moment to slide her lips along his collarbone, nipping and sucking as she saw fit, and Fitz groaned. All he could do was stand there and whimper vaguely, feeling more turned on by the second, until at last she leaned back to grin slyly up at him, licking her lips in a wholly lascivious way. “Sorry, I needed to do that.”

“Right then?” 

“Yeah.”

Fitz exhaled slowly, forcing himself to gather his thoughts (and convince himself that tickling her in retaliation would really just throw them more off course). “The point was that I’ve, y’know, learned some things. And I’ve seen some things that I’d like to try. With you.”

Rolling her eyes, Jemma linked her fingers together against his back. “Fitz, that much I ascertained. I need more detail about said things before I can agree to them or not!”

She tried very hard not to laugh at the way he glanced around the room, as if he was checking to see if anyone was watching them. “I, um, I’d like to use my mouth on you.” When she just stared up at him with a faintly puzzled expression, he slid one hand down to just barely cup over the apex of her thighs. “Here.”

“Oh!” Her cheeks flushed pink and her hips squirmed under his touch, instinctively tilting forward. “I – I didn’t know that... people did that.” Embarrassed by her own evident lack of experience, Jemma dropped her eyes to stare somewhere in the middle of his chest. 

“Yeah, they do,” he replied quietly, smiling as he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “And it’s supposed to feel really good. But I don’t have to if you’re not... if you don’t want to. I want to, um, make love to you the way you want me to.” _Or something_. Fitz cringed after he finished speaking, wondering how normal people approached having intercourse and exactly how off-track they were.

“Oh, _Fitz_ ,” Jemma breathed, stretching up to nuzzle at his nose. “Let’s try it. If it’s not good –”

“We’ll stop,” he finished for her, reaching down to unlace her trousers. Or at least, attempt to. “What the....” Leaning back, Fitz peered down at the complicated closure, tugging unsuccessfully at the ends and pulling Jemma’s hips forward.

“Here, let me –”

“No,” he said, waving her off with a frown and bending over to get a better idea of what he was dealing with. After a few moments, Jemma couldn’t help but giggle at the way his tongue poked out as he concentrated. She reached forward to smooth her thumb along his bottom lip but he just batted her hand away, keeping his gaze focused on his task.

“Fitz,” she said with more than a tinge of admonishment, “you’re meant to be seducing me.”

“Well, I think since you’re the one who undressed me first –”

“What was there to undress? You were only in a towel –”

“You’re really the seducer in this situation –”

“For all I know, you were trying to tempt me into your bed –” Jemma stopped herself with a loud squawk when Fitz gave a particularly enthusiastic pull on one of the laces, and he threw up his hands in defeat. 

“Who the _hell_ designs trousers like that?! You need a bloody degree to get them off.”

Chuckling, Jemma gave the strings a few pointed tugs and pushed the trousers off her hips, enjoying the way his mouth dropped open in indignation. “I thought you were meant to be good with your bare hands,” she teased, kicking the trousers away at last.

“I _am_ good with my bare hands,” he muttered, glaring at the offending piece of clothing and briefly considering putting them to better use as kindling. But then he turned his gaze back to Jemma, who now was much nearer to his ideal level of being dressed, and dipped his head down to press slow kisses up along her jaw. “S’pose I’ll have to prove it.” 

A few more moments of unlacing and Jemma was finally just as bare to Fitz’s gaze as he had been to her for some time, and as she scooted backwards on the bed he let himself admire the view. The candlelight cast a warm glow over her skin – nothing like the shine he knew emanated from his own, it made her seem softer, shadows dipping into those secret places that he was now allowed to touch. Shuddering in anticipation, he caught her look of bemusement and stretched out on the bed next to her, reaching forward to press in for more heated kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, tracing nonsensical patterns along her side. “The most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.” 

“Oh,” Jemma breathed, eyes slipping closed as he sucked gently at her pulse point. “I suppose you’ve seen a lot of those.”

“None of them like you.”

As much as Fitz seemed to enjoy being allowed to pet and caress her, Jemma hadn’t expected how much she wanted it – and how much it made her want him. The first time she really, truly moaned was when his lips found their way to her breast, teeth scraping ever-so-slightly against the nipple as he drew it into his mouth. An ache she’d never felt before was growing between her thighs, and she whimpered, as he seemed to be touching her almost everywhere else. A part of her wanted to be more active, wanted to push the star over onto his back and see just how she could make him tremble... but every time the thought occurred to her, he did something to distract her again. And letting him explore her body felt so, _so_ good.

Eventually, Fitz pulled away to kneel between her legs, leaving her quivering on the bed as she tried not to beg him to touch her again. His hands trailed down to her hips, thumbs brushing along the upper crease of her thigh as he searched for her approval. She nodded quickly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and cheeks flushing. Settling himself more comfortably on his stomach, he spread open her thighs so that she was fully exposed to his gaze, and then... stopped. 

Jemma squirmed, trying to parse out the look of intense concentration on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my bearings.” The laugh that burst out of her throat was almost a snort, and she wriggled a little against his hold on her. Unperturbed, Fitz glanced up at the disbelief on her face and shrugged. “I’ve seen it done, but it’s not like we have telescopes up in the sky, you know, I need to figure out where things are.”

She giggled again, dropping her head back onto a pillow. But he still didn’t seem ready, only smoothing one thumb down to part the outer lips and give himself an improved line of sight. “Fitz,” she whined eventually, glancing down at him. “Honestly, at this point I’d rather go back to kissing –”

Just then, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue over a small, sensitive nub at the tip of her folds that she’d never paid attention to in her life, and a sharp cry burst out of her. The feeling was electric, fire sparking through her veins and making her muscles pull tight. He did it again and she moaned, completely overwhelmed by this new, distinct form of pleasure.

The mattress squeaked, and her eyes flew open to see Fitz scooting up along her body. “Why did you stop?” Her voice was hoarse and desperate, but the idea of not feeling that way again immediately was making her feel slightly unhinged.

“You said you’d rather go back to kissing,” he said nonchalantly, but she caught the smug grin he wore as he leaned down to capture her lips with his. 

“You’re an arse,” she muttered into his kiss. Not letting him get too comfortable, Jemma nudged at his shoulders to direct him back down the mattress. His grin still in place, Fitz placed one more kiss between her breasts before shimmying between her legs. This time, he bent them up over his shoulders, but before she could voice any kind of concern he’d returned his mouth to the sensitive skin at the apex of her thighs, and she whimpered shamefully. He spent a few, long moments sucking at that small nub, eyes flitting up to watch her brows knot in pleasure, before sliding his tongue elsewhere. She ached for him to keep going, even if she had no idea what the end result would be – if it were anything like this, it would be fantastic.

The way he switched techniques every few strokes told her that he was treating her like an experiment, trying to figure out what worked best, and she couldn’t help but wish that all science felt this good. Waves tingled out from her center through her entire body, making her breath come short as little cries and moans eked out of her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut, expression half-twisted in the unexpected thrill of having Fitz wind up this tight coil inside her. But it wasn’t until he returned to licking that one, small place – the sensitive nub that coaxed an eager, strangled whimper out of her throat whenever it was touched – that she truly lost control. Her fingers gripped the sheets so hard that she almost worried they would rip, and her heel dug into his back as her whole body undulated instinctively to match the movements of his tongue. She tried so hard not to move too much, desperately not wanting to discourage him, but the way he covered her in sensation, wet heat stroking up from her entrance to her core, was too addictive for her to keep still.

“Oh Fitz, F- _Fitz_ , God, p-please, _ah_! _Yes_ , I – I just – _there_!”

The words that bubbled out of her throat were barely comprehensible, but she felt his hand squeeze her thigh in recognition. Then he wrapped his mouth around that nub again, sucking and licking in a rhythm that would’ve sent her hips bucking into the air if it weren’t for his hold on her. Jemma’s whole body turned into one raw, trembling nerve, every thought consumed by the desire for him to never, ever stop doing just that, until the feeling burst through her in strong waves of pleasure. The cry she let out was shocked and high, fading into a hitched moan that just kept going as he continued to stroke his tongue against her, each swipe making her shudder and releasing another burst of feeling. When he did finally lift away to look at her, she was almost relieved, his touch too much on her suddenly oversensitive nerve-endings, and she sunk into the mattress, feeling completely spent and shivering in what seemed to be wonderful sort of aftershocks.

Jemma couldn’t even bring herself to move, all of her limbs feeling like lead, and she was happy to let Fitz guide her legs together because she didn’t think she had the strength in her to do anything of the sort. After a few seconds, during which she was dimly aware of the soft swish of water, the mattress dipped as Fitz climbed up along the bed to lie against her, his chest pressed along one of her arms. Although she wanted to meet his gaze, she couldn’t move yet, only vaguely aware that he was pressing feather-light kisses over her shoulder and neck. Her breath came in sharp inhales, and after a particularly strong shiver as her sweat began to cool in the open air, she was finally able to convince herself to return his attention. 

Blinking, she slowly raised her gaze to his face, and then tried to turn herself to hold him. But her arm wouldn’t quite cooperate, instead only making it far enough to press one hand flat against his chest. This was enough for her in the meantime, though, because now she could stare into his eyes, reveling in their familiar shade of blue.

“Are... you alright?”

Staring dumbly at him, it took Jemma a few moments to recognize the concern written across his features. “I’ve never,” she slurred, swallowing briefly, “been more alright in my life.” Fitz chuckled, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he reached up to tangle their fingers together, a pleased glow returning to his skin. “Did you really know how to do that just from... watching?”

He cleared his throat and gave her a bashful grin. “I may have heard Skye and Hunter arguing about technique on the ship once.”

“Ah yes,” Jemma said, unable to remove her eyes from his face or the silly smile from her lips. “That makes more sense. Who’d you listen to?” 

“Skye.”

Giggling, and then feeling somewhat shy about her giddiness, she was able to get her limbs to cooperate long enough to curl into his chest. “I should’ve known. Remind me to send her a thank you card. Or her own ship.” Fitz flushed again at the knowledge that he’d pleased her so much, although she couldn’t see his face from where she was leaning against him. Her breath finally having slowed to a normal pace, she sighed, a slight moan eking out at the memory of how he’d made her feel. “That was....” She trailed off, feeling completely at a loss for how to describe what seemed to her a life-changing experience. Instead, she settled on forcing herself into motion, pushing him backwards and clumsily climbing over to straddle him. “Let me show you,” she murmured against his lips, slicking her tongue into his mouth and delighting in the eager hum he released. 

The way Jemma took over once she’d recovered, pressing her naked, sweaty body flush against his, made Fitz lightheaded, and he tried not to think too hard about what they were about to do. Somehow, having seen other people make love and knowing what to do didn’t make him any less nervous. If it took them a little time to get there, he wasn’t going to object, and she seemed preoccupied with exploring the expanse of his chest with her teeth, tongue, and fingers. For someone who didn’t have any experience with this either, Jemma was achingly good at figuring out ways to touch and tease him to the point of almost desperate arousal. But then she continued down along his body, and once she slid her tongue along the crease of his thigh he figured out her intention.

“No!”

They both froze, her golden-brown eyes flitting, wounded, up to his face. His breath came short as he fought his own warring instincts; a rather large part of him very much wanted her to continue, the image of her working over his cock with her own tongue almost too erotic to resist. Shaking his head clear, though, he inhaled deeply and tried to explain himself. “I, um – oh, lord, Jemma, I want that so much. But I – I’ve never done this before, I dunno how this body will react, and I really.... We wanted to make love, didn’t we? Be really, properly together?” Understanding bloomed on her face and she nodded, clambering back up his side so their faces were even. “Another time, maybe?”

He tried very hard not to seem too hopeful, but she just smiled, scooting up to trace her fingers along his hairline and against his jaw. “You really are too wonderful to be human,” she teased, leaning in for achingly tender kisses. Sighing in relief, Fitz curled his arms around her, allowing one hand to slip down to her arse and press her closer in. Desire sung through his veins but he ignored it in favor of kissing her thoroughly, reminding himself that she wanted to be here just as much as he did. After a few minutes of holding each other and kissing as if they had all the time in the world, Jemma pulled away. She was lying half over him, her hip rubbing teasingly against his cock, and she frowned as she glanced down between them.

“Should I...” she started, trailing off and tilting her hips towards him in a silent question. 

It took Fitz a moment to focus in again, but once he’d caught up he shook his head. “You haven’t, um... before... right?” Jemma mimicked his headshake, confirming what he’d already assumed, and he inhaled as he leaned in for a few, slow kisses. “Then I think I should probably....” Holding her gently against him, he twisted them so that he lay on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows and settling between her parted thighs.

The warmth radiating out from her center was so close to him now that he had to take a few deep breaths before he could meet her eyes again, and they laid together and still for what seemed like a long time. Something passed between them in the silence, as Jemma watched the glow of his skin and the way his eyes worshipped her, as Fitz tried to memorize the curved flush of her lips and the soft heat in her gaze. Both of them knew in that moment that this was everything that the other wanted, had always wanted but had never known until they’d fallen into this adventure together. Even though they came from two different worlds, together was exactly where they belonged.

“Ready?”

She nodded, letting out a slow, calming breath. Reaching down, Fitz slid his fingers through her folds for a few moments, waiting for her to make a pleased hum before he guided himself to her entrance and pushed slowly in. After a few seconds, Jemma’s breath caught and her eyes squeezed shut in pain, and he froze halfway in, trying to focus on her through the massive haze of lust that had suddenly clouded his brain. He could feel her muscles grasping at his cock, trying to adjust to his size, and he let out a delayed whimper at the pure pleasure he found in the hot slickness of being inside her. Much like earlier, a lot of human behavior suddenly became abundantly clear to him, and he had the wild thought that he would do anything to feel like this over and over again. But he could feel the glow in his skin fade ever-so-slightly as he pried his eyes open to see the discomfort that still twisted Jemma’s face, wanting – no, _needing_ her to enjoy this the way that he did.

“Can I... what can I do?” His voice was breathless and desperate, increasingly worried by the way her whole body had gone still beneath him.

“Just – wait, please. Wait a moment.” 

The glow of his skin flickered again, torn between the sheer pleasure his body felt at being inside her and the concern that this was hurting the woman he loved. Unsure what else to do, Fitz settled for pressing gentle kisses to as much of her skin as he could reach without moving his hips at all. His lips feathered over her cheeks, her neck, her jaw, over the crease in her forehead and her squeezed-shut eyelids. She sucked in a small breath, nuzzling haltingly up at him, trying to wordlessly reassure him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong – not that that made him feel the least bit better. After a few moments, something occurred to him and he balanced on one arm again to reach down and slide his thumb over that sensitive bundle of nerves that had been so receptive to his attentions earlier. A shocked gasp left her throat, and when he glanced up again some of the tension had seeped out of her face, lips just barely parted.

“Oh that’s... much better,” she breathed, fingers loosening around his biceps and the rest of her body beginning to relax beneath him. Her inner walls clenched in response to his attention and he had to bite back a groan at the sensation. Continuing to work his thumb in gentle circles, Fitz let a relieved smile spread across his face when he felt her hips shift upwards as they had earlier, when she’d wanted him to keep going. “Let’s try... that again.” Her eyes were heavy as they stared up at him now, lips parted as pleased pants left her throat, and he took a moment to kiss her deeply before pushing the rest of the way in.

Jemma tensed again and he stilled, stopping not only for her but to gather himself. In fact, she was ready before he was, the continued motion of his thumb coaxing her muscles to loosen far faster than they might have otherwise. But the feeling of being hilted fully inside of her was overwhelming him, her passage so tight and hot and slick, and he understood now those periodic embarrassing moments he’d witnessed, when the boy had barely been inside the girl before he’d come. Luckily for Fitz, star biology seemed slightly more resilient, and he only needed a few seconds before he was in control enough to continue. Trying to be as cautious and gentle as possible, he rocked his hips back and pushed in again, a choked moan whispering out of his throat at the ensuing wave of pleasure. 

To his thrill and surprise, after a few of his careful thrusts, Jemma released a low noise of contentment and her hips rolled forward to meet his. He groaned at the way this caused her to tighten around him, trembling at the feeling of being completely surrounded by her – legs tangled together, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, eyes holding his gaze when they weren’t fluttering closed. As she responded beneath him, breath coming out in hitched, uneven gasps, he felt like he was witnessing a miracle. 

“You’re... the most perfect thing, Jemma,” he panted against her skin, needing to share everything about this moment with her. “Feels incredible, everything, you... being with you... ah, _God_... you’re so human, so gorgeous....”

A small laughed vibrated through her chest to his, and he tilted his head to meet her eyes as she spoke. “Finally – _oh!_ – finally figured out what, mmmm, the fuss is all about?” He shifted his angle slightly and she shivered against him, letting out a soft moan. “About humans?”

Shaking his head, Fitz, slid his lips messily down the length of her throat, free hand shifting so that he could hold more firmly to her shoulder. “Not just – that,” he argued, trying to find the right words. “You’re so – so fragile, under my... hands, I can feel your pulse... _ah_ , your bones, the way your... muscles move beneath me, around... me, so small and delicate... and... oh, _yes_ ,” he hissed as she tightened purposefully around him, “yes, _God_ , just like that, _Jemma_...!” He was lost for a few seconds, trying to navigate his way back through his clouded mind to what he’d been saying, breathing heavily against her cheek as he continued slow-thrusting into her. “And yet you’re unbreakable, and – infinite, greater than galaxies or, _ahh_ , or planets, or any star in the sky....”

The smile he caught when he met her eyes again was a cross between fondness and amusement, and he chuckled, nuzzling against her nose. “Yeah, alright, I’ve figured out... what all the fuss is about.” She laughed at his admission, reaching up to give him breathless kisses and sliding one hand through his hair. 

Jemma felt like she was flying again, as if the bed was their ship and his hands and cock were steering them steadily forward, back to that wave of feeling that had so overwhelmed her earlier. The way his eyes fluttered halfway closed at every stroke enchanted her, and knowing that he was so shocked and thrilled by these feelings gave Jemma a heady sense of power. This star, this unearthly being, was so lost in loving her that he could barely form sentences, and she wanted to know what else she could do that would make him feel this way. Most of all, though, she wasn’t ready to surrender the image she’d conjured up in the bushes earlier that day.

“Fitz, I want to....” She paused, sighing as he nipped at her collarbone. “I want to be on top. For a bit.”

With a small groan and shudder, he nodded, removing his hand from her folds and hilting fully inside her before rolling them over. They both shivered for a few moments from the angle change, their bodies still pressed flush against each other but the sensation somehow more potent. For Jemma it was, at least, as her weight pushed his cock even deeper in, rubbing against something that sent an amazing shock through her system. The moan she released was loud and high, catching quickly as she shook her hair back and braced her arms on either side of his shoulders. Even without him continuing to stroke her center, this position ratcheted up her arousal, and as she began the rise and fall of her hips she decided that the next time they did this, she wanted to be on top the whole time. One of the best changes was that now she had a better view of his face, reveling in his shift between awe and pleasure as her hips sunk back onto him. 

But he was glowing so brightly now that she could barely look at him, so she settled onto his chest and leaned up to tug at his earlobe with her teeth. “Fitz, you’re glowing.”

He groaned into a small laugh, fingers tightening around her hips where they ground together. “God, I know. You feel bloody fantastic.”

Giggling, Jemma shook her head and nuzzled into his cheek. “No, I mean, I can barely look at you. Can you, um, do something about that?”

“Oh, I... I dunno. I’ve never....” His brows furrowed as he considered her request, and she pulled back to watch the gears shift over his expression. “Alright, I’m... gonna try something.” He closed his eyes tightly and Jemma watched as the glow of which she had become so fond pushed outward from his skin, encircling the bed in a soft ball of light. Warmth filled Jemma’s chest as she stared down at him, his skin having reverted to a normal color, other than being flushed from arousal and exertion. He looked almost entirely human now, curls mussed and slightly damp with sweat, and she reached forward to touch him, to make sure he was real. When his eyes met hers again she inhaled sharply, the unobstructed blue so much more captivating as he searched for her approval.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smoothing one hand down his cheek and pressing in for gentle, affectionate kisses. “I want to be able to see you – all of you.” Then, feeling the way her thigh muscles had begun to strain in this position, she pushed against his chest so that she was sitting straight up over him and they both gasped at the change.

Jemma let her head fall back and eyes slip closed, the better for her to focus on the tight slide of him in and out of her as she rolled her hips. Every now and then she felt a twinge where her inner muscles still weren’t used to this, but mostly that had faded in favor of the pleasure of this particular form of intimacy. The aftermath of her first climax still thrummed through her veins, drawn out by the friction of his cock pumping into her, whimpers and moans falling instinctively from her lips. All of her skin down there felt more sensitive now than it ever had before, and every movement sent arousal ringing through her.

“Oh God,” Fitz groaned out beneath her, and she felt him shift so that his feet were planted on the mattress, his hips thrusting up to meet her more firmly. “That’s the most – the best – I, I’ve never seen anything like you, Jemma, never....” 

A laugh bubbled up from her throat only to be interrupted by a moan as he stroked against something fantastic inside her. “Stars are so talkative in bed,” she teased, eyes shining as she met his gaze.

His own traveled up from where he’d been admiring the rhythmic shift of her breasts, and he raised an eyebrow. “That a bad thing?” 

She sighed, shaking her head and trying a slower, deeper roll of her hips, eyes almost crossing as it sent a frighteningly good bolt of feeling through her. “No, it’s actually rather, _ahh_ , marvelous. Your voice... oh, I love your voice.”

Fitz chuckled. “And after all that fuss about me sounding like I was from Scotland, you’ve decided you _like_ it.” 

Jemma let out a small _tsk_ , rolling her eyes at him and pressing one palm against his leg behind her to better support herself as she sped up. “I didn’t make a fuss! And it still doesn’t – _oh_ ,” she said, stopping her own train of thought with a high whimper. The added speed and altered angle caused a wave of pleasure to wash through her from her head to her toes, and she truly started riding him then, fingers gripping the lean muscles of his thighs as his hips bucked up faster in response. “Oh, Fitz, _yes_!” 

Low grunts punctuated his breaths as he watched her sink repeatedly onto his cock, her skin flushed as she took control and worked herself closer to the edge. Amused that – maybe for the first time ever – she’d stopped in the middle of scolding him, Fitz couldn’t resist teasing her. “I’m sorry,” he panted, “what were you saying?”

Aware that she was shamelessly working herself towards the precipice of another climax, she shook her head, needing to suck in shaky breaths before she could speak. “I’ll... have to correct you... later. Feels... too good.”

Fitz groaned out his enthusiastic agreement, fingers gripping the soft skin of her thighs as he helped increase the force when their hips met, having finally found a joint rhythm that had them both spiraling. Being able to watch her ride him, sweat shining on her skin in the room’s dim lighting, dusky pink nipples peaked and bouncing as she moved faster, was the hottest thing the star could have ever possibly imagined.

With every downward thrust now his cock bottomed out inside her, sending sparks into her nerves and whimpers out of her throat. Her hips undulated against his at a desperately fast pace but it wasn’t enough, and she could feel herself getting closer even as her thigh muscles began to strain against the repeated movement. Driving herself down onto him and holding there, Jemma leaned forward to press herself against his chest, grinding her hips in small circles to keep the sensation going.

“F-Fitz,” she moaned, lips sliding against his cheek, “I’m so-so close, p-please, can you – I need you....” 

His own brain subsumed by the feeling of her walls fluttering around him, it took Fitz a few seconds to figure out what she wanted. But then he inhaled, giving one more slight thrust into her from this angle and delighting in the gasp this forced out of her chest. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her hips, he rolled them back over so that she was underneath him. Jemma released a moan of satisfaction and lifted her legs, crossing her ankles above his hips to give him as much access to her over-sensitized skin as possible, and Fitz would’ve sworn that he almost passed out at the wave of sheer arousal this sent through him. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, tucking his head against her neck and caressing her skin with his mouth. She just whimpered, mouth bowing as he began thrusting wildly into her, the bed creaking noisily from the strain. From this position, he could gain more momentum than she had, his strokes hard and fast and just what Jemma needed.

One of his hands curled back up around her shoulder, holding her steady so that she felt every inch of him driving into her, and the other slid down to adjust the angle of her hips. He knew that she needed the pressure on that one, small area in order to finish, but he couldn’t focus enough anymore to do it with his hand, he was too close to the edge himself. So his solution was to see if he could use the bucking motion of her hips to press him against her in just the right way, and after a moment of adjusting she shuddered in his hold and let out a high-pitched gasp. 

“That’s it,” she breathed, brows knotting as she felt that wave building inside her, unable to fully articulate how amazing this felt. “Oh, Fitz, _ohhh_....”

The way she writhed uncontrollably beneath him, her own sense of rhythm gone as her body desperately chased its release, made him dizzy, and he tried to memorize everything about how they felt together like this. “C’mon, Jemma,” he groaned, thrusting faster still, “come on, I love you, love you, let go.”

Jemma was suspended just at the edge, feeling her whole body tremble as she focused on the delicious friction of his cock sliding rapidly into her, the heat of his chest and arms surrounding and anchoring her. Once he spoke, though, telling her what he’d been showing her all night, pleasure suffused her every nerve and the coil burst, feeling pulsing through her limbs in wave after wave. As her whole body bucked against him, she set her teeth into his shoulder, muffling the loud, hitched cries she made as his continued thrusts just drew her climax on and on. Even when she thought she was on the edge of coming down, his movements pressed against her center again, stroking her nerve endings back to life, and she wondered dimly if he had any idea what an effect he had on her. She had never felt this out of control in her life, and she never wanted it to stop.

In a way, it was fortuitous that Jemma was so caught up in the intensity of her own release because as Fitz inched towards his own climax he lost the focus necessary to push his glow around the two of them. As he felt her walls fluttering and grasping at his cock, his own arousal tightening inside him, the light in his skin burned a bright white, so strong that were anyone to look into the room all they would see was a writhing, unearthly glow. Neither of them was aware of this, with Jemma’s eyes shut tight against the overwhelming waves of her orgasm and Fitz’s face buried in her neck as he tried to surround himself with her as much as possible.

The bed was knocking loudly against the wall now with his frantic thrusting, so eager to follow her over the edge but never wanting the feeling to end. His groans faded into low, desperate cries of her name, voice breaking as her hips began to buck upwards to meet his again. When she leaned up to capture his lips with hers, slicking her tongue into his mouth and purposely clenching around him, Fitz came with a loud cry, the sound muffled by her kiss. He thrust hard inside her and held there, barely able to appreciate her kisses as he focused on the wash of pleasure that sent his hips twitching against hers. A large shockwave of light burst through the room and to the town beyond; fortunately, most residents of the town by the wall at this time of night were either asleep or too drunk to care about the strange sight.

Fitz trembled in Jemma’s hold, his release seeming to go on and on, her heels digging into his skin to hold him within her, her walls grasping at his sensitive skin, and her hands smoothing along his back. Then all the tension seeped out of him at once and he effectively collapsed onto her, barely saved from crushing her by having his elbows already dug into the mattress. Happily sinking into post-coital lassitude at just about the same time, Jemma sighed and pressed her lips along his cheek, jaw, wherever she could reach. Her eyes roamed over his exhausted, sweaty form, noting that a normal level of glowing had returned to his skin. 

“I love you,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “That was amazing, and fantastic, and you’re perfect –” 

“Hush,” she whispered, tilting his head so she could brush her lips against his, barely caressing, teasing him into awareness. He made a low hum and shifted clumsily so he could reach up with one hand and tilt her head back, sliding his lips down her neck and drinking in as much of his moment as possible. They were as tangled together as two people could possibly be, wrapped tightly around each other with neither one having any particular desire to separate, sweat and ensuing stickiness be damned.

When his mental faculties finally returned, Fitz remembered the discomfort with which Jemma had been initially faced and leaned back to catch her gaze. “Are you alright? Are you – does anything hurt?”

Blinking confusedly up at him, Jemma felt like her brain was still acting sluggishly because she had no idea why he would be asking her that. She’d never experienced anything so fantastic in her life. “What?”

“Before, when we started – you needed time....” 

Finally, she caught on with a startled “Oh!” Then she chuckled, smoothing some of the sweat-stuck hair off his forehead as she nuzzled in for a brief, sweet kiss. “I’m fine now, honestly. Better than fine. Fine enough that if it were possible I’d consider going for round three.” His breath hitched, cobalt eyes crossing slightly at the mere thought, and she grinned. “I expect I’ll be a mite sore tomorrow,” she continued, encouraging him to sit up. Their separation prompted a hiss from her, although she wasn’t sure if it was a last modicum of pleasure, pain, or something of both. In any case, Fitz squinted, studying her movements as she followed him up. “But any and all aftereffects will be worth it.” Giving him an encouraging smile, she winced at the residual stickiness left between her legs. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a washcloth –”

“I’ll get it!” Fitz scrambled out of the bed, completely unconcerned about his own nudity as he sped into the wash area. As she scooted to the side of the bed whose sheets they hadn’t just worn out, he padded quickly back in with two damp towels, both of which he was still wringing out as he returned. “Here.” She took the proffered towel and he ducked his head, as if to give her privacy, and she bit back a chortle at the idea that they had _anything_ to hide from each other after that display.

When she was done, she folded the washcloth and placed it primly on the bedside table before turning back to him. A light flush bloomed on her cheeks at the way he smiled at her, pure adoration emanating from his expression almost as strongly as the glow from his skin. “What’s that one for?”

Glancing down at the second towel he seemed to have forgotten, he cleared his throat before answering. “I, uh. Well, we’re all sweaty now, yeah? And I thought you might not want to stand up for a bit, y’know, so if you wanted you could use this to sort of clean up everywhere else. Thought it was cleaner to have two.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, smiling widely for a moment before an idea occurred to her. “Here, how about this –” Jemma paused, settling herself back against the pillows. “Why don’t _you_ make use of that washcloth on me, and I repay you with kisses?” 

Even if he hadn’t already been glowing, Fitz’s grin would have brightened any room. The opportunity to continue holding, touching, caressing a naked Jemma? That alone was reward enough in his eyes. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, he quickly scrambled up the bed to lie down next to her, leaning in for achingly soft kisses before he started smoothing the damp towel over her skin. He tried to keep his touch gentle and respectful, although he did have a moment of weakness (or four) when it came to her breasts.

After a while, Jemma let out a happy sigh against his lips and pulled back to meet his eyes, raising one hand to caress his jaw as he rubbed the towel over her belly. “Does it always feel that good, or was that just because you’re a star?”

Reading the joke in her eyes, he chuckled. “Oh, it’s definitely all me. Not even another star could’ve pulled that off.”

Jemma rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. “I should never have said anything, it’s just going to inflate your ego even –”

“Inflate my _ego_ , or...?”

“Fitz!” She curled into him, giggling, and he took the opportunity to run the cloth along her back.

“Honestly, though, no idea. I’m the only star I know of to, um, do this. There’s no one to ask, y’know, ‘cause fallen stars don’t usually come back.” His glow flickered slightly at the thought, and she frowned, watching the tight line of his lips.

“You miss it,” she said softly. “Up there.”

Tossing the towel away, he shook his head and rested his hand over her ribs. “Not when I’m with you.”

Jemma flushed, completely unprepared to deal with the admiration in his expression and words. No one had ever looked at her the way Fitz did now; he almost made her believe that she was more than the too-pretty-to-be-so-smart girl from the too-small village. 

“You’ve been with me almost the whole time you’ve been down here,” she replied with a small laugh, pressing her hand to his chest. 

He just shrugged, pulling her even closer. “Then I guess I haven’t missed it very much.” A wave of affection rolled up through Jemma’s chest and she smiled, mouth opening but having no idea what to say. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder, hoping he’d read her feelings through her actions. “I never thought I could be this happy, Jemma.” His voice was quiet, pensive, and she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Up there, it was....” 

“Lonely,” she whispered, and he nodded. 

“Yeah. Most stars don’t mind it, I reckon, it’s their lot and all that, but I always felt sorta like there was something missing.” He trailed his fingers gently down her temple and along her jaw, wishing that there were a way for him to freeze this moment in his memory. “And I don’t feel that way now.”

“Well,” Jemma said, voice thick as she pressed their foreheads together, “I promise, Fitz, that you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

They lay there for a few long moments, studying each other in silence until Fitz couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and wrapped his arms fully around her, tucking his head against her neck. The room was overwarm and so were they, but neither of them moved apart as they gradually faded into sleep. Holding on as if they couldn’t bear to be at all separated from the other, both of them felt incredibly grateful to be exactly where they were.


	6. Stardust

Much to Jemma’s relief, when she awoke a few hours later Fitz was still beside her, warm and solid and real. Beside her was, perhaps, the wrong phrase, because in reality he was curled around her as much as possible, an arm thrown over her stomach and legs tangled with hers. A surge of happiness spread through her whole body, and she shifted gingerly in his arms so that she could press her lips to his. He didn’t respond, however, still too firmly entrenched in his dreams, and so she settled for lightly caressing his cheek and studying his features beneath the glow that exuded from his skin, unchecked in his sleep. Although she’d seen one or two other people sleep during her life, it felt nothing like this – and it had never made her smile like she was right then. The realization that he would blush if he could see the way she was looking at him flitted into her head, and she just grinned wider. She couldn’t help herself; simply watching him sleep, mouth hanging slightly open and his face completely relaxed, made her happier than actually talking to most of the people in her hometown ever had. Including, she had to acknowledge, Trip.

Jemma sighed and glanced at the rosy, early-morning sky visible above the window’s ledge. It wouldn’t be fair to her dear friend to let him wait for her anymore – she needed to find and talk to him as soon as possible. And tell him that she was wildly, irrevocably, completely in love with someone else. The thought made her smile again, and she leaned forward to nuzzle at Fitz’s nose. Still he didn’t wake, although she would’ve sworn that she heard a contented hum reverberate up his throat. Telling herself that the sooner she left, the sooner she could return, Jemma gently extracted herself from his hold and went about her morning routine as quickly and quietly as possible.

Once she was dressed, she extracted the dagger that Skye had given her and leaned over to slice off a curl of Fitz’s hair from the back of his head, wrapping it in a handkerchief (she’d need to apologize for that later, if he noticed). She gave brief thought to waking him up to say goodbye, but he looked so peaceful in sleep that she couldn’t bear to disturb him. In all the days they’d traveled together, she’d never actually caught him sleeping – he could only manage it at odd moments, usually in the evening or late morning. 

To some degree, she was sure that had to do with the sleeping pattern he’d held for millennia up in the sky, but she also suspected that he’d never felt safe enough to do so, down here on Earth, knowing that at any moment someone could decide to cut out his heart. The fact that he’d slept soundly all night after their love-making made warmth bloom in her chest, and she wanted nothing more right then than to kiss him everywhere she could reach. In her head, this meant that he trusted her so much he knew she’d never harm him, and that almost meant more to her than anything he’d said last night. Not long after they’d first met she’d promised that she would protect him, and now he believed her – and Jemma would do anything to continue to earn that trust. But time ticked on, and she had tasks to complete. 

Slinging the lightning cylinder over her shoulder, she hunted quickly for something to write with, but unless she wanted to carve a message into the wood (and incur God-only-knew what fees as a result) there was nothing in the room itself. So taking one more look back at Fitz where he slept, limbs splayed out over the mattress and nude but for the crumpled white sheet, Jemma made herself step out the door. The sooner she left, she repeated to herself, the sooner she could return to him. Unfortunately, the innkeeper was a grouchy sod and claimed he didn’t have anything with which she could write, either. (Apparently bookkeeping was not a priority in this particular Shieldhold dive.) Annoyed, Jemma paid him extra to relay a message to Fitz once he came downstairs, and then slipped out the front door, relieved to be away from the innkeeper and his snide, unspoken judgments about how she’d spent her night. 

After a quick stop at a nearby apothecary for a potion that would deter pregnancy (magic really could be quite wonderful, she mused after drinking the small bottle down), Jemma strode through the market and towards the wall. As she passed by stalls of all kinds, she didn’t notice the bright yellow caravan hidden amongst the others, nor did she see the chained blue jay hop up from its perch and twitter frantically as she passed by.

The walk itself took her nearly no time at all, but before she went to the Academy she had one far more important visit to make. Squaring her shoulders, she rapped on the claw-footed knocker of her own front door and gave her father a tremulous smile when he swung it open. For a few seconds, Steve just stood there and stared at her, until he gave his head a brief shake and swept her up into his arms.

“Jemma!”

“Hi Papa,” she squeezed out, the strength of his hug a little strong for proper enunciation. He didn’t hold her close for long, though, instead putting her gently down so he could give her a good look over.

“You look... just, wow, wait until your uncle sees you! Your hair – and where did you get those clothes?”

Chuckling at the way he fussed over her, she fondly batted his hands away from tugging at the short ends of her new haircut. “It’s a long story. I can’t stay –”

“What?” She laughed again at the aghast expression on his face. “But I wanna hear about where you’ve _been_ for the past week, and,” he paused reaching out to tug at her vest. “I’m not sure I want to let you go wandering around in that thing. Guys aren’t as trustworthy as you are.” 

Jemma gave him a fond sigh. “In case you didn’t notice, I’ve got a sword –”

“Can you use it?” 

“Mostly.”

“Good. Keep those rapscallions away from my best girl.” He reached out to ruffle her hair and she rolled her eyes.

“That’s actually – I really do have to go, honestly, but that’s why I came here first.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Rapscallions?” 

“Well,” she said, dragging out the word and dropping her gaze. “One in particular.” 

The man who had once run off to the same magical kingdom studied his daughter for a few moments, taking in the faint pink tinge to her cheeks and the shine to her eyes. “You love him.”

“So – oh, so much, Papa,” Jemma breathed. “And now I understand what you were trying to tell me before I left. I’m not going to stay here, I’ve found my adventure somewhere else –”

“With someone else,” he interrupted, grinning at the happiness shining from her face. 

“Yes, with him. But I’m never going to stop working to cure you, wherever I am. And maybe, one day, you can come with us.”

Steve wrapped her up in his arms again and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. “Do what makes you happy, Jemma-girl. I’ll be waiting here with bells on." 

Back at the inn, Fitz finally stirred from slumber, his glow increasing immediately as he stretched one arm blindly out in the bed to reach for Jemma. When he couldn’t find her, though, he sat clumsily up and yawned, noting that her clothes were gone as well. Assuming that she’d woken early and not wanted to wake him, he leapt out of bed, then cleaned and dressed himself as quickly as possible – he couldn’t wait to kiss her again. He smiled as he bounded down the stairs of the inn, only stumbling a little at the bottom, and made quick work of hunting for her in the common areas.

“Excuse me,” he said, turning to the innkeeper when he didn’t have any luck on his own. “Have you seen my friend? Beautiful woman, brown hair cut to here....”

The ruffian had his legs propped up on what passed for the front desk, hat pushed over his eyes and hands crossed behind his head. A greasy apron covered whatever surely-filthy clothes he wore, and Fitz was fairly sure that if he got any closer a strong stench would waft from his skin. “She left absurdly early.” 

Fitz frowned, putting his hands on his hips. “She left?” 

Pushing his floppy hat back, the innkeeper gave him a quick onceover before he continued speaking. “She told me to tell you she’s gone to see Trip, because she’s sorry, but she’s found her true love, and she wants to spend the rest of her life with him.” 

The glow in Fitz’s skin disappeared all at once, and he found it hard to breathe. “What? Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“Yeah, bint made me repeat it back to her and all.”

A wave of dizziness overtook Fitz, and he was just barely able to grab onto the stairs’ railing in time. It didn’t make sense for her to have said what she did last night, _done_ what they did, and then trot back to her not-even-fiancé the next day; it just didn’t. Jemma had said she loved _him_ , loved Fitz – hadn’t she? He went back through everything she said, every word, every look, and he realized with absolute horror that she hadn’t actually told him she’d loved him once. She’d said her true love was right in front of her and kissed him, and like a fool Fitz had assumed she’d meant him. His pulse thudded loudly in his ears and he tried to reason it out, tried to explain the disconnect between this message and the way she’d looked at him last night, kissed him, held him close. Had he just been so desperate for it to be true that he’d imagined it? Had she made love to him out of pity and not because she’d truly wanted to? After all, she _had_ asked if it was what he’d wanted, rather than saying what she wanted.

Jemma had told Fitz he didn’t ever need to be alone again, and now he was not only alone but also felt sick, as if the bile roiling in his stomach was fighting to get out. As if maybe emptying himself or imploding would mean he’d wake up and be able to start today all over again. Maybe if he burned from the inside out, as good stars do, then she’d be able to love him. 

Without consciously making the decision to do so, he drifted dazedly to the door of the inn, not hearing the angry shouts of the unpaid innkeeper. If he could just talk to her, he thought dimly, she’d be able to explain it, tell him what he was missing or that today wasn’t real. Or maybe he could beg her to change her mind. No, he thought to himself, rounding the street corner and following a broken sign towards the wall. He wouldn’t beg. But he was fairly sure he couldn’t survive her telling him that last night had been a lie. 

As Fitz passed through the market main street in a stupor, trapped in his own head, a woman in a blue dress yelled to get his attention. Not knowing his name, Peggy frantically waved her arms when he didn’t turn around, straining against the chain that bound her to the yellow caravan and kept her from getting close enough to the star to stop him. For if he meant to follow Jemma to the wall – Peggy had recognized her own daughter instantly, even through the blue jay’s eyes – then the star would surely die.

Her efforts were to no avail, however, and before she knew it he was out of her sight in the crowd. Swearing under her breath, Peggy ran to check on her mistress, who was still sleeping off the previous night’s imbibing in the back of the caravan. Soft snores sounded through the wooden planks, and Peggy’s mind was made up; she quickly packed up the witch’s various belongings, tossed them in the back with her, and leapt into the driver’s seat. Once the witch awoke, Peggy would have to pay a harsh price – probably another beating – but it would be worth it if she could save the star’s life. Cracking the horse’s reins, she set off through the market, banking turns as sharply as she dared and hoping that she would get there in time. 

Fitz didn’t know how long he walked, only aware of his all-consuming need to see Jemma, to ask her what he’d done to make her leave. As he made his way through the field before the wall, he wondered how he’d find her, whether she’d be at home or with her fiancé. The hole in the wall curved into view, thick grass growing around it, and he prepared to clamber over the fallen stones. Before he could grab onto the wall to steady himself, however, someone yanked him sharply away from the edge, causing him to stumble and nearly fall backwards. 

“You can’t go over there!” A woman in a royal blue dress grabbed his shoulders, holding him both upright and in place. “If you step foot on human soil, you’ll turn into stardust! You’ll die.”

Although he knew he should be grateful for this stranger’s intervention, the numbness had spread so far through him that he wondered if he even cared. All Fitz wanted right now was to see Jemma, and if becoming stardust was the one way to be close to her again – so be it.

A couple miles away, as Jemma stared up at the dormitory’s sunkissed stone walls and waited for Trip, she thought about how the Academy looked so much smaller to her now than it had before she’d left. Being gone had made her realize that the building itself only held the import she bestowed upon it. In reality, it was only brick and mortar, just like every other school of its kind. Where before she had ached to belong here, now she knew that she could choose where to belong – and that this place didn’t deserve her.

It had taken her more time to extricate herself from her father’s embrace than she’d anticipated, only leaving once she’d promised to bring her rapscallion home for dinner to get approval from her father and uncle. So now her thoughts were on Fitz, wondering if he’d gotten her message to meet just beyond the wall, wondering what he’d done upon waking to find her gone, wondering what he was thinking, how he looked – and generally wishing that he were beside her. When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she was still smiling at the memory of what he’d looked like before she left him this morning, curls mussed against the cotton pillow.

“Girl,” Trip said once she turned, “it’s so good to see you!” He leaned over to give her a warm hug and she tried not to feel too nervous. 

“Hi, Trip.” 

Pulling back to look at her, he shook his head. “I wouldn’t’ve recognized you if I didn’t know that you’d be the only one throwing pebbles at my window.” 

“It’s been an eventful week,” she quipped with a minute smile. “How was Ipswich?”

His own grin faltered. “It was, ah, good.” An uncomfortable silence fell between them for a few moments, until they both spoke at once. “I’ve got something to tell you–”

“I have to tell you something –”

The two friends laughed, and after accidentally speaking over each other a couple more times they settled on Trip going first. As he took a deep breath, Jemma suddenly realized that he looked nervous, and she’d _never_ seen him nervous about anything before. This was a man who mastered his lessons after looking over them once and could leap over most garden fences in a single bound, after all – what could he possibly have to be nervous about?

“I... hell, Jemma, I dunno how else to do this other than to just come out and say it. I met someone else. While you were away.”

A whoosh of air left Jemma’s lungs and she laughed, pressing one hand to her chest. “Oh, thank _God_.” Trip just stared blankly back at her; he’d been worrying for hours about breaking his friend’s heart, so that hadn’t been what he was expecting. “I’m in love with someone else.” 

“Really?” He couldn’t help the incredulous undertone to his voice – she’d only been away for a week.

“Really-really,” she answered with a smile. “I feel like... like I’ve known him my entire life. Like he was always there in front of me and I couldn’t see him until....”

“Until you met him?” Raising an eyebrow, Trip crossed his arms, his grin working its way back across his face. “Never pegged you for a love-at-first-sight kinda person.” 

“Oh, no, we hated each other at first,” she chuckled. “Or, we thought we did. It’s a rather long story.” Jemma curled one hand into his, eyes shining in relief. “I’ve been so worried about telling you. I’m truly happy you found someone else.”

“Yeah, me too.” His eyes widened and he half-raised a defensive hand. “I mean, not that I didn’t want to propose to you. I did. But when I met Skye –”

“ _Skye_!” She stared at him, gobsmacked. It couldn’t possibly.... “That’s – that’s a rather unusual name.”

“Not so unusual for a pirate,” he said with a shrug, and Jemma burst into laughter. “What?”

“I know her! She’s – we became quite good friends, actually. How did you meet her?” 

“She just came up to me when I was at market yesterday. We got to talking and, I, uh, sort of skipped the rest of my classes to hang out with her.” At her incredulous look, he chuckled. “I know, not like me. We just talked for hours, kind of like you and I do, but with her it was like....” He paused, brows furrowing in thought. “Like there was something else _there_. Underneath what we were actually saying. That I’d never felt around you.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jemma said with an earnest nod. “I felt the same way the first time I spoke to Fitz. Although obviously I didn’t think it was love at the time.” 

Trip laughed quietly. “Fitz – good name.”

“I think you’d like him, actually. He’d love to learn about your metalwork class. So, where is Skye now?” Jemma suspected that the pirate would be exceedingly interested in the developments between her and Fitz since they’d left the Bus, and she’d love to see her new friend again.

“Oh, she left – said her ship was waiting for her.” He laughed, scuffing the heel of his boot against the grass. “I don’t even know if she’s interested in me – kept talking about a blonde pirate captain she wanted to meet.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Jemma rested one hand on the hilt of her sword. “How many hours did you spend talking?”

“Dunno, lost count. We were out there until nightfall, though.”

“Knowing Skye, she wouldn’t have stayed so long if she wasn’t interested. You don’t know if you have a shot until you try. Just,” she said, leaning up with a faux-conspiratorial whisper, “don’t be intimidated.” 

He let out another boisterous laugh. “No need to worry about that. I could tell in five minutes that girl’s a fighter.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” Both of them turned to see Gonzalez striding in their direction, a scowl set upon his face. “Your determination is admirable, Jemma, but you’re disturbing our students during their study period –”

“I’m here,” Jemma interrupted, “because I made you a promise.” Digging the handkerchief out of her pocket, she held it out to him. “I found the shooting star.” He took the handkerchief from her, letting out a quiet, exasperated sigh. “But I’d also like to withdraw my application from consideration. I realized something while I was gone – if you think that my gender and my financial status make me unworthy of your time, then you don’t deserve my brilliance. Because I am that, you know – I’m _brilliant_. Actually, properly brilliant. And I’m going to seek out my education someplace that wants me for who I am, not in spite of that. I used to think I needed your approval, but I don’t. I only need myself.”

Trip made a low whistle and gave her an impressed nod. But Gonzalez didn’t move his gaze from the now-unfolded handkerchief. “That’s not a star.” Jemma opened her mouth to explain, but he continued over her. “What would I want with a pile of dirt?” 

That stopped her again, and she stepped forward to see that what had once been a lock of sandy-blond hair was indeed a small pile of slightly-shimmery earth. Horror shot into her stomach as she realized that the only thing that had changed since she’d cut off that lock of hair was that she’d gone over the wall: She was no longer in the magical kingdom of Shieldhold, and the hair had become dust. 

“ _Fitz_ ,” Jemma whispered, spinning on her heels and sprinting back towards the wall as fast as possible, the lightning cylinder banging sharply into her shoulders and her coat flapping behind her in the wind. She had to keep him from going through; she had to save him.

Peggy watched the way Fitz stared mutely through the wall, concerned by how different he was now from yesterday when she’d watched him confess his love for her daughter. His natural shine had completely disappeared, instead leaving his skin so pale and gaunt that he looked ill. Before she could ask what was wrong, though, the door to the caravan flew off its hinges with a loud bang, just narrowly missing the two of them. Fitz flinched in surprise, which Peggy took as a good sign – he was still in there, somewhere. She wrapped one hand around his arm, trying to put herself between him and her mistress.

“Wretched woman! Where have you taken me?!” Raina climbed out of the caravan, clouds pulling in over them and her curls forming a dark halo around her head.

Another carriage approached, however, dirt and grass crunching under its wheels, and as it pulled to a stop both Peggy and Fitz turned. To Fitz’s horror, he recognized the woman who climbed down its steps, although she seemed to have aged greatly in the intervening week. A smile spread across Jiaying’s face as she glimpsed the star behind where Peggy attempted to shield him, and she strode forward. Her journey to find the star had been long, tedious, and had done terrible things to her youth; her skin was sallow, hair nearly all grey, and her hands were wrinkled and spotted. But that didn’t make her cold gaze any less terrifying.

“Planning to enter England, were you?” Jiaying tilted her head, trying to meet Fitz’s eyes, and her question halted Raina’s vicious progress towards her slave girl. “If death is what you wish, dear boy, I’d be more than happy to assist you.”

Propping one hand on her hip, Raina frowned at the other witch. “Are you talking to me, or my slave?” 

Jiaying flicked her eyes in Raina’s direction. “I should’ve expected you’d pop up again. And I was talking to the star.” She reached out as if to caress Fitz’s face, but he stumbled back, barely kept upright by Peggy’s grip.

Frowning, Raina glanced around the otherwise unoccupied field. “What star? My slave girl’s no star, or I would’ve cut the heart out of her chest years ago, trust me.”

A distinct darkness flashed across Jiaying’s eyes then, and she turned to the witch in the flower dress. “Trust you? Not again, I should think. And no one else shall, either.” She raised her hands and a burst of green flame shot towards Raina, engulfing her in magic for a few, long seconds. 

When the light dissipated, Fitz let out a strangled cry of fear at seeing that the hedge witch no longer had a head, and he grabbed onto Peggy’s arm. Despite the gruesome sight before her, Peggy was more concerned with the fact that the silver chain around her ankle had just disappeared: With Raina’s death, she had been set free.  

Jiaying let out a loud squawk of dissatisfaction, drawing both Peggy and Fitz’s attention back to her. She was staring down at where her breasts seemed to hang rather lower than they had a few seconds before, and she glanced up at them. “That’s it, time to go.” The witch reached for Fitz’s hand, but Peggy stepped between them again, raising her fists. 

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Sighing, Jiaying rolled her eyes up to the sky. “Would you like to end up like her?” Peggy hesitated, unwilling to concede defeat until the star wrapped one hand around her arm.

“It’s not worth it,” Fitz muttered, and she slid her eyes over to him, wondering if he meant the fight or himself. Either way, she knew he was right, and she lowered her hands.

“Good girl,” chirped Jiaying. “Look, you can come, too, if that’ll make you feel better. I might even let you live – we could use a slave girl.”

Peggy pursed her lips as she took hold of the star’s hand, knowing that even if the witch held the advantage for the moment there might come a time that Peggy could arrange their escape. Once she’d locked her two prisoners into the carriage, Jiaying hobbled into the driver’s seat, muttering to herself that she wasn’t to use magic again until she held the star’s still-beating heart in her knobbly, wrinkled hand.

As the carriage rocked into motion, Peggy turned to the star. “We’re going to find a way out of this, I promise. I’m Peggy.”

He glanced down at her outstretched hand but didn’t take it, turning instead back to the passing countryside. “My name’s Fitz,” he said quietly as he watched the hole in the wall shrink in the distance. Even though he knew that right now he should be terrified, and in the dim recesses of his mind he was, all he could think about was that the carriage was just taking him that much farther away from Jemma. More than anything else at that moment, he missed her terribly, even knowing that she surely didn’t miss him.

Not having ever been particularly good with emotions, Peggy wasn’t entirely sure how to address the faded star, although she suspected that asking him about her daughter right now would be counterproductive. Instead, she just reached out and threaded their fingers together, squeezing tightly to let him know that she wasn’t going anywhere. Anyone who was that in love with her daughter was surely worth protecting.

Frantic and out of breath, Jemma skidded to a stop a few feet from the wall, where the guard on England’s side had picked up his stool and was tottering away from his station as quickly as his ancient legs would allow. “What happened?”

“I quit,” he muttered, waving his stool vaguely in her direction. “I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been keeping you people from going out, when I should’ve been worrying about people from the other side from coming in!”

Ignoring his tirade, Jemma could see the yellow caravan and Raina’s headless body from where she stood, and her breath caught in her lungs. “Oh God. Over there – did you see a boy?” She sped in front of him, hands outstretched to stop his progress. “Tell me,” she pleaded, eyes wide. “Did you see a boy about my age with curly hair? Is he okay? Alive?” The guardsman gave a slow nod, and she exhaled, leaning forward against her knees to support herself. “Thank God. Now, tell me what happened.” 

He gave her a long rambling explanation, but, in addition to his various asides and exaggerations, at least he was able to point her in the direction that the carriage went. “Thank you, Mr. Selvig,” she called behind her as she climbed over the wall, leaving him to make his escape. 

As she grabbed a saddle from inside the caravan and began to fit it on the horse, she noticed the snowdrop peeking out of the grass, having clearly fallen at some point before it could protect Raina from her fate. Shuddering, Jemma reached down and picked the flower up, fingers brushing against the silk of the witch’s dress, thinking that she could probably use a good luck charm to rescue Fitz. After a bit more fiddling with the saddle’s leather straps, she clambered inelegantly onto the horse, dug her heels into his haunches, and sped along the carriage’s tracks as quickly as her steed could carry her.

The witches’ mansion was nestled between ice-capped mountains in an isolated corner of Shieldhold to which few ever ventured, mostly because those who did rarely returned. Sunlight rarely graced the house’s grounds, and its spires stretched eerily up past what seemed architecturally possible. When they clanged open, the flint-black doors emitted three people within a cloud of dust, the same of which hung over everything inside. Dragging Peggy and Fitz in behind her, sharp nails digging into their flesh, Jiaying flashed a satisfied grin at her siblings as they hobbled to greet her.

“One star, as I vowed – and a slave girl,” she said, tossing Peggy in the direction of her sister, Dottie. “Get her some chains and show her the kitchen. We shall prepare the star.” Jiaying’s brother, Barry, wrapped a wizened hand around Fitz’s other arm, and Peggy began to yell as the surprisingly-strong older woman pulled her away.

“Don’t you dare hurt him! I’m warning you!”

Once Dottie and the prisoner were out of sight, Jiaying and Barry laughed, forcing the star forward between them. “Quite a superiority complex she has, for a slave,” Barry muttered with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Jiaying answered. “We will break her soon enough.” 

Fear began to leak through Fitz’s numb sadness, then, as he stared up at the ruined grandeur of the mansion’s grand hall. The mirrored walls were cracked and tarnished, black veins creeping up and around every fixture, just waiting until the day that darkness would swallow the place whole. As the two witches hauled him up the wide, arcing staircase, Fitz’s throat dried up as he realized that they were bringing him to a flat marble altar, next to which rested a gleaming, carnelian glass knife. 

Peggy struggled against the witch as she was pulled farther and farther away from her charge, eyes flitting around to look for any weapon that she might use to escape. For a house as dank as this, the hallway through which they strode was brightly lit, broken windows letting in more light than the filthy, neglected glass.

“Come now,” Dottie rasped, grey-blonde hair spread wildly over her hunched shoulders and glinting dully in the daylight. “You’ll get used to being here....” Breath gurgled out of her throat, and she fell to her knees as Peggy released the large shard of glass that she had just jabbed into the old woman’s spine.

“I don’t expect I’ll have time to get used to anything,” Peggy muttered, wiping her own blood (from holding the improvised blade) on her dress and taking off in the direction of the great hall.

The mansion loomed above Jemma as she snuck around the front, shuffling low to the ground to avoid being spotted through the wall-length windows. Although she saw figures moving about at the opposite end of the room, before she could determine if one of those people was Fitz she felt cold steel press against the flesh of her neck.

“Who are you, and what business do you have here?” Grant flicked his eyes over the diminutive woman in front of him, noting her pirate-esque clothes and the sword at her hip. His journeys to find the star had also been frustrating, to say the least, but a fair amount of witness threatening and carefully tracking the witch had eventually led him here, and he would be damned if he didn’t get his hands on that gemstone. The star’s heart would be a nice bonus, but at this point the kingdom was his priority. (The ghosts of his siblings were less than thrilled the closer their brother came to the star, but could do little more than mock him invisibly as they trailed behind. Currently, they had already infiltrated the mansion and were debating aloud to each other the importance of consistent household upkeep.)

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jemma replied smoothly, leading his gaze down to where she had her dagger pressed against the jacket over his ribs. After another moment of sizing each other up, they both stepped back simultaneously, holding their respective weapons out.

“Here to kill the witches?” He slid his knife back into its sheath and removed his sword instead, wondering why a girl her age would have come here alone. 

“And to rescue my friend.” Assuming he was here, that is. Getting a better grip on her sword, Jemma glanced nervously through the window.

Grant nodded, clenching his princely jaw, and backed up against the double front doors. “Do as I say and we may stand a chance.”

She let out a small scoff, already wondering about the wisdom of an expedient alliance with such a despicable-looking character. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Chuckling, he raised a perfectly formed eyebrow. “Do you have a choice?” 

“I suppose not,” she muttered, steeling herself as he mouthed a countdown and then burst through the doors. Rather than follow immediately, she waited to see the fallout of his charge – just because they’d agreed on this uneasy alliance didn’t mean that she was opposed to letting him be the bait. 

A woman ran in from a side room just as Grant strode into the hall, and, assuming she was another, younger witch, raised his sword to attack. She spun around at the sound of his footsteps and he froze, both of their mouths falling open in surprise. 

“Grant?!”

“Margie?!”

Behind them, the chorus of ghosts spun around in unison. “Sister!” 

“I always hated that nickname,” Peggy said, watching as he lowered his sword.

“I forgot.” A smile flitted across his face before a frown took its place. “What are–” Thunder echoed in the hall behind them, and they turned to see the male witch advancing through the hall. Deciding that the reunion could wait, Grant strode down the center of the room, swinging his sword menacingly from side-to-side.

The front doors creaked open and Peggy turned just in time to see her own daughter approaching, sword held high. “Jemma!” Holding her hands out, palms first, she stopped the girl’s progress. “Stop, please! I’m not one of them!” Nose crinkling in confusion, Jemma let her sword lower without letting her guard down. “I’m your – I’m your mother.” Peggy inhaled, stepping haltingly forward as she tried to think of how to prove her identity. “Twenty years ago I met your father, Steve. He wanted to help me but I wouldn’t let him – it was too dangerous.” At the mention of her father’s name, Jemma nearly dropped the sword entirely, her eyes widening in shock. “The day I left you with him, I left you the flower you’re wearing now. I’m so – so glad I’ve found you.” 

“My mother?” Jemma whispered weakly, and at Peggy’s tearful nod they ran into each other’s arms. “I used the Babylon candle,” she mumbled into her mother’s shoulder, feeling instinctively soothed at the way Peggy was petting the back of her head. “We can’t use it to escape –”

“We’ll fight our way out,” Peggy said with confidence. “We’ll save Fitz, and we’ll fight our way out together.”

Knowing that she didn’t have time to ask how her mother knew about Fitz, Jemma just nodded. “Where is he?”

“At the top of the stairs – they’ve tied him to an altar.” 

Jemma inhaled shakily as she took her mother’s proffered hand, trying not to think about the purpose for which that altar was used, and they strode forward together. Not far from them, Grant was effectively blocking the bolts of magic being shot at him by the male witch, but a commotion at the top of the stairs distracted everyone.

“She’s killed Dottie!” wailed Jiaying, who had just reentered from an exit on the upper floor. “Finish it!”

But her screech meant that her brother was distracted just long enough for Grant to cut the rope that secured one of the hall’s enormous, once-silver chandeliers, and the whole thing crashed directly onto the witch. Debris flew everywhere, and as Jiaying screamed from above, Jemma twisted around to see Peggy lying prone on the marble floor, a deep gash across her forehead.

“No, no, no, no,” Jemma whispered, dropping onto her knees and pressing two fingers against her mother’s neck. Thankfully, her pulse was strong – she was just unconscious. Taking a deep breath, Jemma turned around just in time to see Jiaying use her viridescent magic to pick up Grant and dash him against the marble floor. This time, Jemma didn’t need to check his pulse; the contorted position of his body told her well enough that he was dead. As Jiaying surveyed her newest victim, Jemma took a moment to pull her mother as far behind a fallen column as she could.

Along the other side of the hall, Grant’s ghost popped into existence next to his deceased siblings, and they all groaned. “Fantastic,” Victoria said. “Now we _all_ get to spend our afterlives together.”

“It’s just you and me now, little girl,” Jiaying sneered from the top of the stairs. 

Standing up straight and raising her sword, Jemma tried to look as confident as she didn’t feel. “I suppose it is.”

At the sound of her voice, Fitz turned his head from where he’d been staring at the ceiling. Although he’d struggled when they bound him to the altar, the leather cuffs were strong and he’d been trying not to think about what it would feel like to die. But when he saw Jemma, standing alone in the middle of the ruined hall with her sword held high, a small glow flickered out of his skin. “ _Jemma_.”

Jiaying did a minute double take at the sight of the star’s momentary shine, and then turned back towards her attacker. Raising her hands, she ignored the way her powers sapped her age and energy and focused on winning. 

A tendril of magic zipped towards Jemma but couldn’t make contact with her skin, and she smiled. “Seems my good luck charm is working,” she said, tapping the snowdrop where it was pinned to her coat’s lapel.

“Oh, my dear,” Jiaying intoned, gliding smoothly around to the balcony side of the altar. “That only protects against magical attacks.” She muttered a brief phrase under her breath and held her hands out in front of her, waving her fingers as if they were supporting a puppet on its strings. Only a few meters from where Jemma now stood, Grant’s body twitched, slowly rising until it stood uneasily on its own two feet.

The spirits of Grant’s siblings all turned to him, aghast, and he shook his head in complete befuddlement. “It’s not me!” 

“Can you feel anything?” Pietro sped over to the body as it advanced menacingly towards Jemma and then returned just as quickly.

Grant just shook his ghostly head, and attempted to poke his physical arm to be sure. “Nada.”

“Now that’s just _wrong_ ,” Victoria muttered, unable to take her eyes off of the corpse as it swung its sword at Jemma. The other ghosts murmured their fervent ascent, and settled in to watch the strangest fight any of them could remember either hearing of or seeing.

Ducking underneath the body’s aimless swings, Jemma tugged frantically at the cylinder she still wore across her back. Eventually, she just ripped the clasp free, dropping her sword so she could grip her new weapon with both hands.

“Walk _this_ off,” she muttered, popping open the copper fastening and sending a bolt of lightning straight into the corpse’s chest. The body flew backwards and crashed into the opposite mirror wall, sliding to the ground as smoke drifted up from where it landed. Jemma snapped the cylinder shut before all the lightning could escape, stumbling backwards from the recoil.

When she looked up again, Jemma was horror-stricken at the sight before her: The witch stood over the altar, blood-red weapon raised high above the star. As Jiaying brought the knife slicing down, Jemma screamed, dropping the copper cylinder as she reached helplessly towards Fitz. Seconds ticked by as no one moved, and a sob burst out of her throat. “No,” she cried – she’d come so far only to lose him at the last second. 

On the altar, Fitz opened his eyes, slowly realizing that he didn’t feel any pain. Loud wailing sounded from just next to him, and he turned to see Jiaying hunched over, arms clutching her torso as the knife clattered to the floor. With a start, he realized that she’d sliced his bindings rather than his skin, and he struggled to sit up quickly, pushing the leather away from his limbs. A tearful gasp echoed from the bottom floor, and he glanced around to see Jemma staring at him, hands held over her mouth. 

“Youth,” Jiaying cried, not watching as Fitz inched towards the stairs. “ _Beauty_. It all seems meaningless now. My brother and sister are dead! The child taken from me so – oh, so many years ago, is lost forever. Everything I care about in this world is gone.” She glanced up to see him still frozen on the top step. “Go. _Go!_ ”

Not needing to be told twice, Fitz scrambled down the stairs as fast as his feet could take him, the necklace catching on a broken metal railing and flying off his neck as he went. Although he turned instinctively after it, he made the split-second decision to keep going, making a beeline for Jemma as soon as he reached the main floor. She reached one hand out for his and they sped away from the stairs as quickly as possible. 

“You came back for me,” he whispered, gaze flitting towards her as they strode expeditiously along the length of the enormous hall.

Jemma let out an incredulous scoff, hand tightening around his. “Why on earth wouldn’t I?”

“I mean, you’re getting engaged to someone else, there’s no reason –” He mumbled this almost to himself, but to her the words were louder than the witch’s continued sobs.

“What?!” She knew that she shouldn’t slow down until they’d reached her mother and all three of them had fully escaped, but she was so confused that she couldn’t help it. When she turned to him, continuing to walk at a halting pace, she realized that the shine in his skin was paltry, only a fraction of what it had been the night before. 

Fitz glanced over at her, making sure that they both kept moving. “The innkeeper – he said you’d gone to Trip because he was your true love, so –”

“Oh, that imbecile,” she gasped, stopping entirely and causing Fitz to stumble at the sudden change of pace. “I knew he’d never remember it all.” She looked up, searching his eyes. “You thought that I’d – that after last night, I’d just abandoned you?” His mouth worked silently for a moment, and when he nodded her chest constricted. Now just a few feet away from the column behind where Peggy lay, Jemma glanced around to make sure that the witch was still busy crying at the top of the stairs and then reached up to take his face in her hands. “No, no, I’d never... _you_ are my true love, Fitz. Don’t ever doubt that, not for a second.” 

A huge weight felt like it was lifted away from him at her words, and a strong glow flickered into life and then shone from his skin. Studying the steadiness of her gaze, the way her eyes stared, wide and open, up at him, Fitz broke into a large, breathless smile. Last night hadn’t been a lie, and suddenly everything in the universe seemed that much brighter.

Before he could say anything in return, manic laughter echoed up from the other end of the hall, and they both twisted around in fear. The front doors slammed shut, and boards flew into place over all the remaining windows.

“I owe you thanks, girl,” Jiaying sneered from where she leaned over the altar table. “What use was his heart to me when it was broken? And now I don’t even have to share with my brother and sister – I’ll be beautiful for _centuries_.” As the witch grabbed her knife, Jemma tried to pull Fitz behind her to shield him, tugging harder when he resisted. 

“I think I still have one more shot with the lightning,” she whispered, eyes darting desperately around as she searched for more weapons. 

Fitz just continued to smile and shook his head, stepping forward so that they were face-to-face. “Hold me tight and close your eyes.”

Jemma stared at him like he’d lost his mind, glancing down to where he was in the process of wrapping his arms around her waist. “What? Why?”

“What do stars do best?” When she just gave him a confused headshake, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “We shine,” Fitz whispered, nuzzling affectionately against her nose.

Still unsure of what he meant, Jemma let him pull her close, tucking her head into his neck. A wave of blinding light burst away from them in all directions, tearing down decorations and breaking mirrors with the strength of it. Jiaying’s arms flew straight out next to her, the knife shattering against the marble as she screamed, the flesh being burned off of her until there was nothing left but ash.

A bloodthirsty group as ever, the ghosts cheered as she dissipated, calling out cries of “well done!” and “bravo!” at the star’s stellar final move. 

Fitz held onto Jemma for a few extra seconds, looking up to make sure that the witch was truly gone before he loosened his grip. When Jemma took in the damage around the room, her eyes widened in fear. “Mother!”

As she darted behind the fallen column, Fitz frowned. “Mother?”

Jemma sighed in relief as she saw that the column had protected Peggy from the blast, and then nodded back at him, sweeping loose hair out of her face. “She’s my mother.”

“Wow,” he muttered, staring down at the unconscious woman. “She tried to protect me, y’know. And she’s the only reason that I didn’t go over the wall.”

“I owe her a great debt, then,” Jemma said before turning back to Fitz with an incredulous laugh, gesturing at the new destruction that surrounded them. “ _Why_ didn’t you do that earlier?” 

Stepping forward to entwine their fingers, he gave her a sad smile. “I couldn’t have done that without you,” he answered, glancing down between them. “No star can shine with a broken heart.”

A sigh escaped her lips, and she reached forward to cup his cheek, smoothing her thumb along his stubbled skin. “Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, “I’m so sorry you thought that I’d left you. I wanted to return as soon as I could.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” he said, with a full smile this time. “You came back.” 

“Of course I did. I love you.” She stretched up to kiss him, then, a real kiss – the kind that takes only seconds but feels like it might as well last forever, the kind where both people know exactly what it means. Jemma kissed Fitz like they had the rest of their lives to spend together and a thousand more kisses to share, and when she poured everything she felt into that kiss, this time he could tell.

Once they broke apart for breath, Fitz pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m so glad you found me.”

“Which time?”

They both laughed at that – uncontrollably, as if it was this first time they’d each truly breathed since being separated that morning. “I dunno,” he pretended to ponder, eyes shining as he studied her face. “S’pose I should start a list.” 

“What about –”

“But I meant –”

“The first time, in the crater?”

He shook his head, tightening his arms around her. “All those years ago, when you started talking to the stars.”

Unable to stop touching him, she smoothed her hands up along his jaw. “Then it’s a good thing that you were gazing back.” 

She grinned, stretching up for a brief peck on the lips. Peggy began to stir then, and they both turned in her direction. Fitz was faster, striding over and crouching down by her side, but that’s partially because Jemma’s eye was caught by something shining a few feet away. As Fitz helped Peggy sit up, Jemma stepped quickly over and, seeing that it was the strange, ugly necklace to which Fitz was bizarrely attached, picked it up. 

The setting fell apart in her hands, having been damaged past the point of recognition during the starburst, so she could only salvage the gem and the golden chain. “Fitz,” she called out as she returned to them, “I found your....” But she trailed off as the crystal filled with a bright crimson substance, and Peggy gasped, one hand holding firmly to Fitz’s. 

“The great ruby of the Shieldhold royal family,” Peggy breathed, eyes lighting up as she looked at her daughter. “I suspect that you just inherited the throne, Jemma.” 

On the other side of the hall, the royal ghosts all looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief as they were finally set free from spiritual purgatory and disappeared into a soft vortex of yellow light – all except for Victoria, Pietro, and Grant. The three of them stared apprehensively at the entrance to their afterlife, and then back at each other.

“Do we have to go?” Pietro’s voice was quiet, and, for once, he was standing completely still.

Grant waved his arms a little bit, and then stepped backwards from the light, testing to see whether or not he could. “I don’t think so,” he murmured.

“Maybe now we can – when we’re ready,” Victoria added, and they all glanced at each other.

“Well, I’m not,” Grant said, and Pietro shook his head emphatically. 

“Me neither.” 

“Okay,” Victoria said, straightening up as she strode cautiously away from the light. The other two followed, watching the way that the vortex floated unobtrusively behind them. “Let’s see how long this lasts.” She glanced over at Grant, who was taking stock of his incorporeal body. “I still hate you, you know.”

He gave her a wry smile as they passed through the closed front doors. “Likewise, sister.”

As Fitz helped Peggy to her feet, Jemma stared, dumbfounded, at the ruby in her hand. “How do you know...?”

Sighing, Peggy gently touched the wound on her forehead and winced. “My father loved to encourage us to fight to earn the throne – I refused. That’s why I was alone when the hedge witch found me – I wouldn’t kill any of my siblings, no matter how deserving they might be, so I ran off. I was even fond of some of them,” she said, glancing over at her brother’s blackened corpse, “in a way. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if my father used this ruby as some sort of final contest.”

The gem felt heavy in Jemma’s hand, and she looked up to see Fitz smiling fondly at her. “But I don’t want the throne.” She swallowed and reached out to take his hand. “I have so much left to learn, I’m just not ready to – to rule a kingdom. A kingdom I know barely anything about.” Peggy frowned, reluctantly taking the gem as her daughter shoved it into her hands. “You’re truly the final heir, can’t you be the queen?”

Peggy gave her head a reluctant shake. “It would be dishonest for me to take the crown, my darling. It belongs to you. But I can rule in your stead until you’re ready to take the throne, if you wish.”

“Oh,” Jemma breathed, turning towards her mother. “Really?”

“Anything for my daughter,” she answered, and Jemma threw her arms around her neck. 

“Thank you.” They were silent for a few moments, simply drinking in the fact that they were finally reunited after twenty years apart, until Jemma stepped back and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I have – oh, I have _so_ many questions, but first I have someone who would very much like to see you.”

Compared to the years in between, the journey back to the wall felt like no time at all to Peggy. As she watched Steve climb over the fallen stones and then reach out to help their daughter across, she started moving, flying full-tilt into his arms the second he was turned to her and nearly knocking them both over. 

“I never thought I’d be free,” she whispered tearfully, and he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could.

“I didn’t give up on you, Peg, never.” He leaned back and smiled, brushing stray hairs out of her face. While he had a few more lines on his face than he had twenty years ago, her appearance was untouched, the imprisonment having apparently frozen her at the moment of her capture. “No one could compare.” 

“Well, of course not,” she teased, sniffling a little through her grin. “I _am_ a very intelligent – and beautiful – princess, you know.”

“And a few other things.” Unable to wait anymore, he pressed in to kiss her slow and deep, both of them hoping that, at long last, this would only be the first of many. Mid-kiss, he chuckled, and she broke away with an arched eyebrow. “When I was a kid, someone told me that places like this don’t exist,” he rushed to explain, curling his fingers into her hair. “I’ve got a letter to write.”

Turning away to give her parents some amount of privacy, Jemma turned to Fitz, whose glow was just as brilliant as ever, even in the sunlight. She laughed, pretending to need to shield her eyes. “I’m going to need to start wearing sunglasses around you. 

He chuckled, brows furrowing as he consciously dimmed his shine. “Sorry, I’ll work on that.” 

“Good, because I rather enjoy looking at you.”

As she reached towards him, he held up a small, cylindrical package between them. “Look what Peggy gave us – a Babylon candle.”

Her face fell, and a swooping sensation rushed through her stomach. Although she knew that she’d promised to get him back to the sky at the end of their adventure, she’d rather hoped that he would want to stay with her. “You want... to go home?”

Shaking his head, he slipped the candle into his pocket and reached for her hands. “Not now. For whenever you’re ready.”

Jemma’s mouth twisted sadly as she peered up at him; now, with everything feeling so perfectly triumphant, was the last time that she wanted to have this conversation. Taking a deep breath, she wound her arms around his neck to steady herself. “But I... I can’t survive up there, Fitz. I’m not immortal. I never, _ever_ want to leave you, but –” her voice broke, “I’m so sorry, but one day I will.”

He stared down at her, mouth parting in surprise. “You... don’t you know by now? I mean, I thought you would’ve guessed, after....” Shifting her arm from around his neck, he brought one of her hands down to press against the center of his chest. “My heart belongs to you now. My whole heart.” A loud laugh burst out of his throat at the horrified expression on her face. “No eating required, I promise.”

“Thank God,” she exclaimed, poking him when he continued to giggle. “For a moment I thought you’d gone completely mad.” 

It took a few, long moments for him to stop laughing, but eventually he brought his gaze back to hers. “No, no – it’s just yours, for as long as you want it. And she who possesses the heart of a star....” Fitz trailed off, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “You know the rest.”

“Oh,” Jemma breathed, pausing briefly before flinging her arms around his neck. “As long as I can stay with you.” He nuzzled into her hair, hunching over slightly so that they were as close together as possible. “You know, that means you’ve got _years_ to perfect your inventions,” she mused, closing her eyes and tucking her head under his chin. “And I could get _two_ degrees! Or more, even, if I wanted. We could spend years studying, maybe even get our own lab –”

His mouth found its way back to hers then, and a laugh reverberated through his chest. Although she was slightly miffed at his interruption, soon she forgot even that brief annoyance, distracted by the way his lips slid over hers, reverent, passionate, wholeheartedly showing her how much he cared in the best way he knew how. Jemma stretched onto her tiptoes, fitting her mouth properly to his, content to stay with Fitz indefinitely. One day, they would light the Babylon candle and begin a new life up in the sky, but until then they had a whole lot of living to do – together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Did you see that **shooting star** tonight?_   
>  _Were you dazzled by the same constellation?_   
>  _Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?_   
>  _I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right_   
>  _‘Cause now I’m shining **[bright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E)**._


End file.
